The Way Life Goes On
by Postquam est
Summary: There's nothing romantic about being 40. Decades separate Rin from her past career, her past life. Len, her introverted brother, is married and has a family. Rin is alone. Life goes on though—and it often has a way of surprising you. RinxPiko, slight LenxMiku. "The Way It Always Was" universe. Looking for a feel-good story of emotions and sentimentality? Look no further. COMPLETE.
1. Alone

**Hello!** I'm back with a new story! Surprise! I've actually been writing, believe it or not. And I'm still working on HMMIA, with a whole plan on how it's going to end and everything. I just have to write it all out...

-tears slowly falling down face-

Okay well whatever, here's a spin off story from _The Way It Always Was_ universe. Now you get Rin's story! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>ALONE<p>

Rin was frustrated. Life was frustrating. In a single moment it could be wonderful and then dip down to horrible—a single moment. She let her bangs hang down in front of her eyes. Normally she might just brush them to the side, but at the moment, she was glad for the excuse not to have to look at any of the other people on the bus. When it reached her stop, she picked up her bag and exited the vehicle as quickly as she could. She just wanted to be home.

Still not bothering to brush her hair out of her eyes, Rin walked at a brisk pace, wishing everyone might disappear. "Almost there," her mind told her as she drew near to a bridge that crossed over a stream and into her neighborhood. She stared at the ground as she walked, knowing the way home by heart. The thought intrigued her for a moment, and, seeking to test her skills and distract her mind, Rin closed her eyes and adjusted her speed to match the pace she normally walked home at.

She made a guess at where to turn on the bridge, and she knew she was right when she heard the sound of her footsteps change on the new surface. However, her luck ran out not ten seconds later, when she ran straight into a stranger.

"What are you doing?" Rin snapped, not knowing why she said it, but not really caring.

The stranger—a man—stared at her in bewilderment. "I was looking at the stream…" he said, seemingly too scared of this annoyed girl to ask her what _she_ had been doing, running around with her eyes closed.

"What the heck is even wrong with your eyes?" Rin continued on, noticing that they were two different colors and feeling the need to criticize. "Do you wear some sort of weird color contacts or something? And how old are you? Your hair is all white like some 100-year-old man."

"I have a disease that makes them like that," the guy said, wincing at Rin's harsh words. "Waardenburg syndrome. It's also why I couldn't hear you coming. I'm kinda deaf," he said, managing a nervous smile. "But you must have been in a hurry. Don't mind me."

He turned back to the stream and leaned on the railing of the bridge. Rin gave him one last scrutinous gaze before huffing and continuing on towards her home, her eyes now open and observant. However, she met no one else on the road during the final stretch of her walk.

When she reached her house, she halfheartedly opened the door and tossed her bag down on a bench near the entryway. She slipped off her painful shoes and slumped over to the couch, pulling her phone out of her pocket as she collapsed on the cushions. Someone to talk to. That was all she needed.

"What's up, Rin?" she heard a voice on the other end say after she had called the number.

"I had a terrible day," she mumbled.

"And you think I'm the right person to go to for comfort? Did you mean to call Miku?"

"No, I just wanted to talk to you. Can I not just want to talk to you?"

"You can, you can," the voice said. "I'm listening."

"I didn't get fired, or yelled at, or anything like that…" Rin began. "It was just one of those off days, you know? It started with little things, like running out of cereal, and not being able to find matching socks, and nearly being late for the bus on the way to work; then the kids weren't paying attention and I had to grade so many papers that sounded like crap—how can you put so little effort into something?—and by the time I got to the end of it I couldn't take anymore. My whole life revolves around these students now, and they're not giving me any reasons to have faith in future generations."

"Is that it?"

"Well, you wouldn't really get how frustrating it is, since you're not a teacher. But no, that's not it. I'm just…I don't know…I can't…"

"Are you lonely?"

Rin paused sullenly. "I guess," she said quietly. "And not like the type of lonely where I don't talk to anyone or have any friends, but—"

"I know what you mean."

A short silence ensued, and then the voice spoke again. "Do you want Hana to stay with you over the weekend? I'm sure she'd love to, and I wouldn't mind letting her stay with you for a couple of days, if it would make you feel a little less alone."

"You must be feeling really sorry for me, if you're willing to leave your daughter with me for a weekend," Rin managed to feel amused for a moment, but it faded in the next sentence. "No, it would only make me feel worse when she left."

Rin heard a sigh on the other end of the line. "You do like your new job, don't you?"

"Yeah. I mean, on the good days. I really do. At least I feel more useful than when I was working at that stupid convenience store. I feel like I'm contributing to life, and everytime I help someone understand something, it makes me so happy. But then on certain days, it's like they all decide just not to try. I know I still have a lot to learn, but I wish I knew everything now. I feel like I'm too old to be trying to learn a new occupation."

"You're 35. Maybe there are some other, younger teachers, or older teachers with 50 years of experience, but you're perfectly capable of being successful. Don't get too down over it. Put a smile on your face and start fresh tomorrow. We can depend on each other a lot, but there are certain parts of life that you have to succeed at—or get through—on your own."

Rin nodded, though nobody could see her. "Okay. I'll keep trying." She closed her eyes for a moment. "So how are other the women in your life?"

"One is crazy and the other is a puzzle. You can decide which is which."

Rin laughed. "I don't think you'd call your daughter crazy, but you really shouldn't call your wife that either."

"Nah, Miku knows what she is. I deal with it. I've had practice, after all—I lived with you for almost 20 years."

"Oh, be quiet." Rin smiled in spite of herself. "So how is Hana a puzzle? She seems like such a nice, quiet little person. That can't be too puzzling."

"You're a girl. You wouldn't understand it. But 6-year-old girls are puzzling, especially when they start school and begin making friends. You saw her at Christmas. When she does open her mouth to speak, she's either timid or bold, but never in between. And I never know which one it'll be. And the things she says sometimes…"

"Ha, it sounds like she's just like you were when you were a little kid, but with some extra characteristics of a girl. Surprise, surprise. I do see what you mean, if I think about it. She's a mini-Miku with your personality. How cute," Rin teased.

"Yeah," the voice said wryly. "Listen, Rin, I have to go now—it sounds like you feel a little bit better, but I apologize all the same—I hope you have a better day tomorrow. It'll be Saturday. You should go out and do something. I dare you."

Rin made a face, but of course the phone didn't communicate such things. So instead she said, "Okay. I promise."

"Bye, Rin." There was a quick pause. "I love you."

Rin wrinkled her nose. "Eh! Len! You just had to make it all weird. Fine," Rin's voice dropped to a hesitant mumble. "I guess I love you too. Goodbye."

Rin hung up and sighed. Sitting up on the couch, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees for a moment before getting up and retrieving her laptop from her bag. "Four more months left in the school year. I can do it." She felt a bit better after the call. If anything, Len had been the sole reason she didn't just lay down on her bed and cry. Maybe not. But that was what she had felt like doing before the call. Now she resigned herself to a normal evening. Read some articles online. Grade papers. Eat something. Shower. Read a book. Sleep.

Being naturally curious, Rin could usually spend a long time chasing down rabbit trails online, reading one article after another on some random topic. It was in this way that she had actually accumulated a vast amount of knowledge on some of the oddest subjects, though no one who knew her when she was younger would have predicted it.

Tonight a small thought presented itself in her mind. Quickly she typed in her best guess at the spelling of 'Waardenburg syndrome.' She soon found what she was looking for, and began reading.

"Partial albinism, difficulty hearing, heterochromia," Rin mumbled the words as she read, remembering the man's own description. "Difficulty completely straightening joints and possible decrease in intellectual function. What a weird disease."

She scrolled down complications of the syndrome. "Self-esteem problems," she read aloud, and then suddenly felt bad. She had been pretty rude to the guy about his appearance. She wondered if he was having as bad a day if she was. If so, she really hadn't made it better. Feeling guilty, Rin brushed the thought aside and quickly moved on to an article on heterochromia—and so her evening began.

An hour and a half later, Rin shut her laptop resolutely, now knowing quite a bit more about genetic oddities, and returned to her work of grading papers. However, she didn't make much progress before telling herself that she had the whole weekend and setting the work aside.

A nice shower and a good night's sleep was all she needed, or at least that's what she kept telling herself. Tomorrow would be a fresh day. She could wake up whenever she wanted, get a couple of quick chores done, head out to town and spend the afternoon in a little shopping center popular for its array of restaurants and store, and then go home to deal with work again. No worries for at least 18 hours.

Rin nearly wished she had some friend to ask to go with her, but most of her social life was made up of the small talk she shared with other teachers, and though she did consider them somewhat like friends, she couldn't get over the fact that a lot of them were either a good ten years younger than her or the same age as her but way more advanced in life than she was. At least, that's how it seemed.

Satisfied with her plan, Rin rose from her seat and went to take a shower. She hummed as she did so, not feeling energized enough to sing, but still smiling as she formed a tune under the soothing water.

Singing. That was a nice job. Stressful sometimes, sure, but never a burden. For five years, from the age of fourteen to nineteen, Rin had sung with her brother and several others for a popular company. If only she could return to those days. She had tried to remain that age for so long, and she still did, often treating her brother and his wife the same way she used to when they were younger. Her light and nonchalant manner had never really faded with age, but she did feel less energetic and more likely to shift to a darker mood at any time. The desire to stay a teenager forever often came to her mind, perhaps because she hadn't yet experienced the best moments of being an adult. She was beginning to understand, as she learned to enjoy teaching, but on days like this, when her heart just felt heavy, it was hard to appreciate the occupation.

Rin pulled on some comfortable pajamas after her shower and, after turning off the lights in her room, sat down on the edge of her bed. She stared blankly at the floor for a moment, and then flicked on the lamp next to her bed. Opening a drawer in her nightstand, she pulled out a book she had been reading.

She opened to the currently dog-eared page and lay back in bed, allowing herself to drift into a separate universe. For one moment, her thoughts drifted astray. Her eyes moved mechanically over the page as her mind processed other worries.

"_I'm always alone every night,"_ she thought. _"Would it be sad to die alone? That's a horrible thought, Rin, what are you thinking? But it is valid…I like people. I'm sociable when I come in contact with them. But I'm always alone. Do I prefer being alone? Ah, wouldn't that be ironic. For my introverted brother to live life with a happy family, and for me, sociable me, to live alone forever."_

But then the thought passed, and Rin reset her focus at the top of the page once again.


	2. Wasteful Life

**Full speed** **ahead! **Now the fun begins :) Also quick note: In this universe, not every Vocaloid as we know them plays a part as a singer in the "Vocaloid company" as I've so creatively called it. Thus you have Yuuma at the end of _The Way It Always Was_ and now Piko in this.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>WASTEFUL LIFE<p>

It was in such a way that life passed. Hour after hour, day after day, week after week, month after month. Rin was alive, but she did not live, as far as she could tell.

In the first year of her new job, Rin adjusted. The job switch had been a result of a number of factors. After Rin was released from her contract, she and Len pursued their own college degrees. Rin earned hers by the time she was 23, but when she stepped into the world, she found that she didn't know what she wanted to do. She tried job after menial job before settling with a job at a little convenience store.

To support one person, the job was adequate. Rin had quite a bit of savings from her performing days, mainly because her brother hadn't allowed her to live extravagantly with her earnings, and she had learned how to set aside for the future. Len had always been wise like that. Unfortunately, she had sat by and watched the life leave him after they graduated college, due to the buildup of lies he had created within himself. Len was one of the strongest people she knew, but it wasn't until Miku that he managed to get life back on track.

Up until that point, Rin had felt useful, or perhaps even a little successful. It was natural for her to compare herself to her brother. Inevitable, even. But while she continued working at a convenience store, Len started a family. He married the only girl he had ever loved, and they had a child, and suddenly, Rin wasn't his shoulder to lean on anymore.

That marriage was nearly seven years ago. Not to say that either Len or Miku had forgotten Rin. They still loved her, and she loved them, but she understood she was not the center of their lives. However, she became fed up with her job. She felt useless, worthless, stupid, and superficial. She hadn't really let anyone see that, though, until she spent the day with Len and his family for his daughter's birthday. Then she had admitted her distress to Len, and he had suggested the new job.

So now she was a teacher. And for the first year, she adjusted. She began accustomed to the sounds of children's voices, the way they spoke, they ways they learned, the way they treated each other, and she realized how far she was from them. She could reach out to them, but she was not a child, not anywhere close. And it was hard for her. She felt as though for the first time, the fact that she was an adult was being thrust in her face.

But she learned from the experience, in that first year, and she spent the summer in the United States with a fellow teacher she had grown to like—Yuki was quite a few years younger than Rin, but Rin never felt as though that was apparent when they were together—taking a summer course in psychology and sightseeing on the weekends.

In the second year of her new job, Rin learned. She made it her goal to better herself in what she did, realizing that there were good teachers and bad teachers, and taking it upon herself to be a good one. She wrote down her strengths and weaknesses, tried to run lessons using her strengths, and asked others for help on her weaknesses. In this way, she did her best to feel like she was accomplishing something, and it worked, for that year.

She spent the summer practically living with Len and Miku, and they treated her with good humor, and for a month and a half, Rin allowed herself to forget that she was no longer 15. She and Hana became good friends, and Rin found herself feeling healed of any doubts or stress whenever she saw her brother or his wife grinning at the most trivial happinesses. They laughed together, and Rin glimpsed what it was like to be the mother-figure of a family.

In the third year, Rin thrived. She was not a master by any means, but her colleagues respected her diligence and attitude. She managed to maintain control of the classroom, engage the children, and help those who fell behind. She had very little free time because of how much time she dedicated to her work, but she was okay with that. The feelings she had concerning herself were drowned in the thoughts she had concerning others. She could smile simply because she was happy.

The summer passed swiftly, a bit too swiftly for Rin's liking, being the first one she spent alone since she began teaching. She endeavored to improve her skill in the kitchen, never having been quite comfortable cooking anything. Len, who visited her alone one day towards the end of summer, assured her that she had improved, but she could never tell if he was telling the truth or if he was just being nice.

In the fourth year, Rin lapsed. Doubtful questions replaced the ambitious thoughts in her mind; she questioned the validity of her work. Did she actually care for her job, the children, and the school, or was it just a ruse to distract herself from the fact that she felt like she was a waste of space? Would any of the children she taught grow up to become something great, or were they simply going to follow unknowingly in her own footsteps? When she was gone, would anyone really care? The endless thoughts devoured her sleep, and Rin's determination faltered.

Len called it a mid-life crisis. He told her that she would be fine, and that it was okay to have those thoughts. Rin couldn't stand it though. She was almost 40, and she still didn't know what she was doing. Len seemed to know what he was doing. He and Miku still loved each other, he had a seemingly perfect 10-year-old daughter, and he seemed content. Of course, to all observing, Rin appeared content as well. But she couldn't deny that for every single child she saw (which was quite a few), Rin thought of the family that child probably had, and she soon realized why she felt so distressed all the time.

Rin had no one to pass her life on to. It was the reason why she was so affectionate toward Hana, why she had given so much of herself to her students, why she had been such a successful teacher when she really tried; it was because she so desperately wanted to leave a legacy, to give something to someone worth remembering. She wanted a child to look up to her and say, "I want to grow up to be like you."

Rin contracted a harsh illness at the end of the year that lasted well into the summer, a cold that progressed into worse. By the time she had recovered, all she wanted to do was remain in bed and read. She had lost an unhealthy amount of weight during the sickness and didn't feel energized to do anything else.

When the fifth year rolled around, Rin struggled. She was able to refocus on her job, having pinpointed exactly what was bothering her, but she couldn't escape the desire to relieve the discomfort in her heart. For a long time, she considered adoption. She wasn't married, and as far as she knew, she wouldn't ever be, and she finally came to the conclusion that she couldn't do it. She knew she'd end up overwhelmed, trying to raise a child by herself, and then she'd go to Len for help. He was always too nice to say no, and he'd split his attention away from his own wife and child, and Rin just couldn't live with that thought.

She was just about fed up again. She wanted to quit her job, but only because she wanted to give up on something. Her job wasn't the problem. She forced herself to focus on the good things about it. Still, the thing that most motivated her to keep teaching through the year was the fact that she didn't know what else she would do if she quit. It wasn't a very positive outlook, but it carried her until summer.

It was then that a stroke of luck brought her in contact with a long-forgotten person.

It was as she waited in line for a simple lunch one day at a restaurant in town that she got stepped on. Quite abruptly, as she moved forward one place, the person behind her stepped on her foot.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine," Rin said half-heartedly as she glanced at the person behind her. Her attention was immediately drawn to his white hair and then, upon second evaluation, his mismatched eyes. "I know you," she said.

The guy raised an eyebrow. "I would say you have me mixed up with someone else, but I don't know that I have that many look-alikes. How do you know me but I don't know you?"

"I guess I don't, really, but I've seen you. A while ago. I can't remember when, but it was definitely you," Rin said, determined to be right. "You said you had a disease—some syndrome, and it makes you look like that."

"I see. But you don't know my name?"

Rin thought for a moment, but couldn't recall him telling her any name. She shook her head.

"Well, it's Piko. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand.

Rin smiled in spite of herself. She felt that she had, in some way, made a friend, or at least an aquaintance. And making friends didn't seem nearly as easy as it might have been twenty years previously. She shook his hand. "I'm Rin. And congratulations, this is probably the first time I've smiled in a week." She turned back to the counter where it was almost her turn to order, and their short conversation was over.

The rest of lunch passed in relative normalcy. Rin ate quickly at a small table near a window, spending most of her time observing passers-by, but occasionally lending a glance in Piko's direction. She wasn't sure what it was, but something about the way he talked and acted had just been likeable to her. And it wasn't often that people just instantly gained favor with Rin. Miku had been one of the few others that she immediately took a liking to, and they had become good friends.

It was because of this that Rin longed to establish some sort of solid communication with Piko, but every approach she tried in her head sounded stupid. Rin was sociable, but she had high standards; there were few people that she became truly attached to, and the rest were fine to carry on some conversations with, perhaps occasionally get a meal or spend an evening with. Rin was inclined to be wary of strangers that she had shared four sentences with, but still, she felt drawn to this person. It almost annoyed her.

So she sat at her table long after she had finished her lunch, debating with herself in her mind, staring either at the table or out the window. On one hand, this silly fixation could simply be the result of spending too much time alone. On the other hand, she had talked to quite a few people over time, and only rarely did it induce this sort of fascination.

She eventually convinced herself that she was just spending too much time alone and had created this feeling in her own mind. And so her eyes glanced over just in time to follow his figure out the door, and then he was gone. Rin sighed, waited another three minutes, and then left as well.

As she began walking down the street, Rin realized with a strange twist of her stomach that none other than Piko was running back towards her. He slowed down when he realized they were already going towards each other, and by the time they had met, Rin wasn't sure whether to be amused or scared.

"I know you," he said, falling into step beside Rin.

"Yeah, we just met," Rin said somewhat sarcastically.

"No, I mean I just realized, you said your name was Rin, right?" Rin gave him a questioning glance, but his expression seemed eager, so she assumed he wasn't joking.

"Yeah…"

"You're Rin Kagamine, aren't you?"

"Um, I guess so. That's my name." Rin wondered if this guy actually remembered her from when she was popular.

"Woah," Piko said, seemingly in genuine awe. "Then you must be 40?"

Rin looked at him suspiciously. It was starting to feel creepy. "Maybe, what's it to you?"

"Nothing, I just thought you looked way younger than that. But I only know your age because we're the same age." Piko looked down shyly. "Sorry, I just really liked your music back then."

"It's understandable, I guess," Rin said, suddenly recalling just how much someone could know about her if they had paid attention when she was so publicly recognized. "I haven't met someone who remembered me in a long time."

Nobody said anything more, and they walked on in silence. Just when Rin began to feel slightly uncomfortable again, Piko spoke.

"Sorry, I know I should be going a separate way now, but this is the way to my house too, in case you wondered."

Rin sighed and pursed her lips. After holding back for a moment, Rin asked the question that was burning in her mind. "So how long have you lived here?" she asked.

"15 years," Piko replied simply.

"15 years?" Rin asked in bewilderment. "How have I never seen you before now? You're not exactly…normal in appearance, I guess."

"Gee thanks," Piko said, and Rin looked at him quickly only to realize that he was grinning. "I don't know. I work most days, and I don't go out much."

"Because I saw you once, and that's how I recognized you, and you were on this bridge," Rin said as they walked across it, "but that's it. I've been here for…11 years, I guess, and only one time have I ever seen you. That's weird."

Piko shrugged. "If you don't mind me asking, what is it that you do now?"

"I teach," Rin replied. "In fact, I think it was just around when I started that I saw you. I was kind of frustrated then."

Piko thought for a moment. "Oh!" he said, with sudden realization. "You were the one who said I looked old right? I get funny looks a lot, but no one's ever said something like that besides you," he said, a smile in his eyes. "It's no wonder I didn't recognize you. You seem much nicer now than you were then."

Rin made a face. "Nice? Maybe. Sorry, if I offended you then…" she mumbled.

"It's not important," Piko said quietly. "Guilt is often a worse pain than offense."

Rin smiled a little in appreciation of his words. She came to a halt as she realized that she was about to go in a different direction than Piko.

"So, will it be another five years before I see you again?" Piko asked.

"I—maybe," Rin said hesitantly, meeting Piko's gaze. "But it might be nice to talk again sooner than that…"

Rin caught what she assumed to be genuine surprise in Piko's expression. "Like, over lunch?"

"Yeah, that could work," Rin said, offering a smile. "And you don't have to look so shocked. I'm a normal person, too. I like talking to you," she admitted.

Piko grinned, and Rin pulled a pen out of her pocket. "Give me your hand," she said, and quickly wrote a set of numbers on his hand. "There. Now you have my number." In her head she quickly berated hersef for being old-fashioned. However, the deed already done, she turned to walk towards her own house and waved goodbye. Piko said nothing but waved in return, watching Rin go a few steps before heading home himself.


	3. Sunday Afternoon

**As a short-story author,** I try not to include fillers or unnecessary details. It becomes very difficult, then, to make a chapter consisting entirely of a conversation—every bit of dialogue has to reveal something about the character, and every other sentence has to be concise and relevant. With that in mind, I hope you enjoy the third chapter of this story, Rin and Piko's first lunch together!

* * *

><p>SUNDAY AFTERNOON<p>

Rin frowned into the mirror. Her reflection was so…_old_. Setting her hairbrush down, she tilted her chin down in quiet reflection for a moment.

She lifted it just seconds later, a shrug accompanying a camera-fake smile as she turned towards her empty room. She still wasn't old enough to forget how to people-please, at the very least.

It wasn't that she wanted to be fake or anything. She just wanted a friend for once, quite honestly. And based on experience with her co-workers, she wasn't exactly the most charming human being when she was being her average self. Consequently, she had to put on her best front this afternoon.

Because Piko had invited her to lunch.

Rin had used superior judgment skills to guess how long she should wait for Piko to call her before giving up. It was a waste, however, because the poor guy didn't even wait two days. It was with bitter amusement that Rin decided he was as desperate for company as she was.

Still, she had evaluated herself the evening of that call to see how she should act around this guy. Rin was a woman of many facets. Perhaps all women were like that. Regardless, she was determined to pick the right side to shine when with Piko. People couldn't _not_ like her if she played her cards right.

Thus it was that she headed out for lunch on a summer Sunday afternoon, walking at an even pace so as not to welcome doubt or expedite an awkward experience. She thought about who might get there first. If Piko was a gentleman, he would get there earlier than planned so she wouldn't have to wait. And Rin was certain this guy was a gentleman. He just seemed like one.

However, on the off chance that Rin arrived first, she wasn't sure what she would do. Would she wander around and then pretend to arrive after she saw Piko arrive? Could she just bear to sit and wait, leaving the guy to feel embarrassed when he saw her waiting?

It was a useless worry. Piko was there waiting for Rin when she arrived, sitting on a bench in front of the restaurant, and Rin struck up a cheerful smile when she saw him. "Hello," she greeted.

"Hi," Piko said. It was quite plain. Rin quickly felt embarrassed.

"Anything interesting happen to you in the last four days?" Rin asked.

Piko was visibly ashamed. Rin cursed herself again. She hadn't meant it to sound like she was mocking him for calling her so quickly. There was no way out of this. She decided to let the moment pass without opening her mouth again. "Not really," Piko said.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, nothing interesting has happened to me in the last four _months_, besides meeting you," Rin replied, trying to save Piko's dignity as they entered the restaurant.

The place wasn't anything fancy. Rin was glad for that. It was just like an outing. Like a normal lunch, but with actual human interaction. When they had finally sat down with food, Rin began the conversation anew.

"So, shall we become friends?" she asked lightly.

Piko looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Do you have certain criteria that I have to meet before that can happen?"

Rin pressed her face into her hands. "No, I'm sorry, I'm terrible at this," came her muffled reply.

"No, it's fine," Piko laughed nervously, "I just don't think people actually agree to becoming friends. It just happens."

Rin lifted her head and reassumed ease. "Well, in that case, shall we delve into light conversational topics such as the weather and the latest news?"

"Uh, sure," Piko said, puzzled once again. Rin gave him a sharp glance as she assessed his response.

"Really? You'd agree to talking about such boring things?"

Piko shrugged. "I don't have any better ideas."

Rin squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. First of all, she was making a terrible impression. Second of all, so was he. "Okay okay okay," she said, opening her eyes. "I'll just say it now. I have no idea what adults normally talk about. I work with kids. So if you have any better ideas, _please speak up_."

Piko shook his head. "I don't think there are any rules about this."

"Well then. I'll stick to what I know," Rin decided. "Let's use some icebreakers or something. What's your favorite color?"

"Um, green?"

"Don't sound so confident," Rin said. "It's going to make people think you're arrogant."

Piko looked down at the table, unsure whether to smile or not.

"Okay, well my favorite color is orange," Rin said. She watched Piko carefully, hoping her sarcasm hadn't made him uncomfortable. "Maybe you already knew that, though, if you remember that stuff. But I also like yellow, too," she continued.

Piko looked up at her. "Like your hair used to be. Bright blonde. It's darker now."

It was Rin's turn to avert her eyes. "I dyed it a while back. Not too different, but enough to help people forget." She shook her head lightly. "Okay, next question! What kind of mus—" Rin stopped short. She hadn't been thinking. She didn't want to hear the answer to that. She wasn't sure why, but something about it just felt weird, so, thinking quickly, she changed the question. "What kind of weather do you like?"

"I thought you said that was a boring topic," Piko pointed out.

"Just answer the question."

"I don't know, maybe snow."

"With all this unsurety, I'm wondering if you know less about yourself than I do at this point," Rin said dryly. "Okay, here, how about something to make you think. Then your response can be calculated, rather than having to decide on a favorite. Ready? If you were doomed to die in twenty-four hours, what would you do?"

"That's so depressing," Piko said.

"Yeah, but I've thought about it too much before. I want to know someone else's answer," Rin said.

"Okay, um…are you going to think badly of me?"

Piko looked genuinely unsure of himself. For a moment, Rin could relate, and her head tilted down automatically as she thought of her own wish to appear, well, normal. She brushed the thought aside, though, and looked back up at Piko.

She sighed. "Listen, having twenty-four hours left to live can bring out the worst in people. That's why I asked the question." A smile grew on her face. "You tell me your answer and I'll tell you mine."

"Well first of all I'd cry," Piko said, sounding sheepish. Rin nodded.

"Understandable."

"Really?"

Rin let her eyelids slide down as she unfocused her gaze. "My brother was kind of like that, sometimes. Of course, he's healthy and always has been, but yeah, I guess there are times when guys just feel like…yeah."

"Your brother…" Piko trailed off, making the connection. Rin was sure he was comparing the media's image of Len with her own report, and it was probably hard to take in, if Piko really had followed her and those she worked with. To have an image of someone suddenly marred by imperfection was a letdown, Rin knew. She had figured it out quickly when she attended a university after her short singing career. High expectations are only good when they're attainable, she had tried to tell people. Few ever took the time to accept her as a normal student with good traits as well as bad ones.

Piko began again. "Well, after that…I don't know, I already have a will in place, so I wouldn't need to deal with possessions or anything," he continued.

"You're being too practical," Rin complained. "This is a question of impulses. What would you do with the clock ticking down? What have you always wanted to do?"

"The things I most want to do in life aren't established in twenty-four hours," Piko protested. He thought for a moment. "I would go offer to clean someone's house or something."

Rin squinted at Piko. "That is literally the weirdest answer I've ever…" She stopped mid-sentence and lifted open hands to her chest emphatically as she asked "_Why_?"

Piko shrugged. "I don't have anyone to say goodbye to. Like I said, most aspirations would be the result of more than twenty-four hours of development. If I were to die so soon, I would just want to help someone out. Make their day just a little bit easier, you know?"

Rin shook her head in awe. "That's the most unselfish answer I have ever heard. Never mind now. I'm not even going to tell you my answer. You killed it with your altruism."

Piko tilted his head to the side. "But you did say if I answered you would too." Rin stared at him. She was going to tell him her answer, but she had hoped it would help them be on equal grounds. To show each other that they both had weaknesses. Piko's only weakness was a soft heart, apparently, and it threw Rin off; it made her hate her own answer.

She sighed. "Fine. Fine fine fine. I would go tell my brother and his wife how much I love them but I wouldn't be able to tell them I was dying…well, maybe Len, but not Miku…and then I'd go and buy the nicest clothes I could find and go out, go out somewhere where I could meet people and have a good time with no regrets. No limitations. It might get pretty bad, actually. It's terrible compared to your answer."

"Well I don't think there's a bad answer, necessarily. No one's answer is supposed to be exactly the same, right?" Piko asked hesitantly, before suddenly turning the tables on Rin. "Do you like trying to read people?"

Rin set her arms down on the table, one crossed on top of the other. "What gives you that idea?" she asked, tilting her head back lazily.

"That question…all of them, actually…weren't they based on personality?"

Rin pondered this for a moment. "I suppose you could say I'm rather analytical."

Piko laughed nervously. "It scares me, a little, but I just keep telling myself I'm lucky to have a conversation with a celebrity."

"I scare you?" Rin asked, too surprised to argue that she wasn't a celebrity anymore. "How? You're the scary one, with your two different eyes," she retorted, indicating back and forth with her finger.

Piko sat back and lifted his shoulders as he raised his eyebrows for a moment. "I feel like if I say too much you'll know all my deepest thoughts and emotions."

It was something of a joke, but Rin caught a small quiver in his voice. It reminded her of Len. However, she brushed the thought aside and replied in the same manner. "Coming from a guy who wants to use his last twenty-four hours of life to make someone's day better, I'd say you don't have much to worry about." She laughed lightly, and Piko gave a small laugh as well, and they both relaxed into a comfortable silence, one that lasted just long enough to ease their thoughts.

"Well, if you prefer not to be interrogated, I could just talk about myself," Rin finally said, leaning forward and propping her chin on her hand.

Piko's eyes brightened at this. "Could you tell me what being famous was like? I've always wanted to know," he said.

Rin laughed at this, and nodded, the request already bringing fond memories back into her mind. The images were overwhelming for a moment, so many moments of life gone. She had lived them, but they only existed as replays in her mind. It was a bit surreal, and Rin's smile faded as she hesitated momentarily.

"It was pretty normal, actually. Our company was very good at taking care of us, and those of us who were part of it bonded like a family," she said, recovering her composure. And so she began to tell Piko about the good times she had with the other singers, and the fun of getting to sing such a wide variety of songs—something that had always been unique about the job: each member of the company worked with many different producers. Rin talked about daily life, about concerts, about hanging out with her friends. Piko simply listened and smiled, caught up in the growing enthusiasm with which Rin spoke.

Finally, Rin wound herself down and brought up the time. It had been an hour and a half at least, and while neither was in a hurry to get home, it became an unspoken agreement that they ought to wrap things up.

"This was pretty fun, yeah?" Rin said. "I haven't talked to someone about those days in a while. It was nice to finally have such a lengthy conversation with someone."

"I'm surprised you don't talk to more people," Piko said, laughter in his eyes. "I wasn't sure you'd ever stop. But I have a question, before we go."

"What's that?"

"Why did you guys stop?"

"Singing?" Rin asked. Piko nodded. "We weren't good enough any more. The allure of the company was the versatile, eye-catching singers that could resist the temptations that gave other celebrities a bad name. So they told us, at the beginning of our contract, that we would only work with them for a short time. That we would become adored and followed, but that it wouldn't last. Nothing good lasts forever. So we agreed to it. We would spend our teen years working for them, maintaining our image, drawing in the public, and then we would pass the responsibility on to new faces.

"Not everyone who worked for that company was the same age as Len and I, or had the same singing strengths, or the same features, but we all had one thing in common. We were simply fads. However, in this way, the company continues to bring in fresh talent and maintains its popularity because no one spends long enough time in the job to get burned out and ruin the image. So Vocaloid music lives on indefinitely, in a way. It gives me a sense of pride, in a way, but also some sadness. I'm a part of it, and yet not, at the same time."

Rin had descended into her subdued nostalgia again while speaking, but quickly shook it off and smiled at Piko, a type of reassurement, but meant more for herself than Piko.

"If you're not completely tired of listening to me talk yet, we could do this again next week," Rin suggested. "I'd enjoy spending my Sunday afternoons with someone other than my computer."

Piko smiled. "I wouldn't mind." It was soft, and Rin was reminded that it had probably been uncharacteristically bold of him to speak so casually earlier in the midst of the conversation. She couldn't be completely sure yet, but to her it seemed that Piko had probably retained some form of shyness from his youth, probably unable to outgrow it in the same way she couldn't seem to let go of her lively mannerisms and speech in exchange for a more dignified appearance.

"Are you going straight home?" Piko asked after Rin showed no sign of speaking again.

Rin immediately caught on to the question. Quickly making up her mind, she shook her head. "I was—I wanted to look at some clothes. I heard there's a sale," she said. It was an excuse, of course. She just didn't want to make Piko accompany her home, not because she didn't enjoy his company, but simply because the idea made her feel…uncomfortable. As if it was too straightforward. The reason wasn't good enough for Rin to explain to Piko, so the lie felt necessary. Hopefully Piko wasn't as observant as she was, or else Rin had just messed up any trust factor in this small friendship.

"Alright," Piko replied, and Rin couldn't read his expression. The moment passed, and both stood up, each suddenly hit with the uncomfortable regret and relief of a goodbye. As they left the restaurant and started off in opposite directions, Rin waved goodbye to Piko, and he responded likewise, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

As Rin headed into the busier part of town, she clasped her hands behind her back and pondered the reality of the situation. It felt like deja-vu. Of course, she knew she had met Piko once before, but it felt different than that. It felt like she had known him well, long before, and they were simply meeting up again and resuming where they left off.

This was, of course, impossible, and Rin knew it. It finally dawned on her that it was probably his mannerisms. The way Piko carried himself reminded her very much of Len. Not just Len as he normally was, but more of his behavior when he was with…

Rin shook her head. Piko was just shy, and he happened to display shy tendencies that were reminiscent of Len. That was it. She glanced back over her shoulder. There was enough distance between her and Piko now, so with a sigh, she turned around and headed home.


	4. Past Perfect

**Back again!** Just so we're clear, the thing I think I struggle most with is letting characters grow within their defined personalities. I think I'm doing pretty well in this story, but if you have any tips or notice something a little off, let me know.

* * *

><p>PAST PERFECT<p>

"You can go first, of course."

Rin sighed. She had purposely held the door open so that Piko would go first, yet there he was, politely declining that offer. Reluctantly, she pushed the door aside and walked inside ahead of Piko.

It had been about a month. This was Rin's fifth lunch with Piko, the fifth time she had entered an establishment in front of him.

So far, Rin had learned three very important things about Piko. First of all, he was extremely polite. Secondly, Rin was pretty sure he used to worship the very ground she walked on. Third, he always put himself last.

It was agonizing.

To watch him avert his gaze if he felt like he had been making eye contact for too long, to listen to him stubbornly negate any criticism she gave herself over the course of conversation, to know that everything he did was intended to put anyone but himself in a better light.

Perhaps this was a good thing. Maybe Piko was simply a humble person who did all the right things and could be called the perfect gentleman. If anything, Rin could have at least tried to enjoy the fact that he always believed she was right, and if he didn't, he still managed to make it sound like she was the wiser of the two.

For some reason though, Rin just couldn't do it. This wasn't to say she couldn't enjoy her time with Piko. She did like the company. They had fairly normal conversations, most of the time. But the more they talked, the more Rin realized she just couldn't stand it.

She desperately wanted to make Piko angry.

To see some sign of self-respect, of pride, to see him become even a little indignant at being insulted. For Rin, this wasn't a matter of being mean or nice. It was a feeling of desperation, something that stemmed from a growing attachment that refused to allow this person to continue on in his shy, subservient manner.

So she had started by arriving late. _Really_ late.

That had failed. There was absolutely no difference in Piko when Rin arrived, save for the fact that perhaps his smile was all the more grateful; Rin was certain he was telling himself in his head to be glad she had even showed up at all. Thus it was that Rin hid her chagrin and offered a silent smile as she approached the entrance and held the door open for Piko. It was a no-go there as well.

When they took their seats, Piko still said nothing. It was another trait Rin had noticed resentfully. Instead of growing more comfortable with each encounter, it was as if Piko was withdrawing more and more. The questions he had dared to ask in his first conversations with Rin were no more; rather, he seemed content to listen to Rin talk about whatever she pleased.

It had been awkward, at first. Rin realized that Piko felt perfectly comfortable with it, so on the second and third outings, she had worked to pull herself into a one-sided conversation for Piko's benefit, hoping he'd soon feel brave enough to help carry it on.

By the fourth Sunday, Rin realized this was not the case. The guy was absolutely clueless. She had tried pausing often, giving Piko time to offer input, but it hadn't worked. The only way she could get him to say multiple sentences at a time was by asking a question, and even that was the luck of the draw. He was also very quick to turn it around on Rin, making her wary of any more attempts. Still, she had to get the words flowing somehow.

"So how has this week been for you?" Rin asked. It was plain enough. There was no way to back out of this one.

"Good," Piko said. Rin restrained a sigh.

"Anything interesting happen?"

Piko shook his head, not meeting Rin's gaze.

Rin couldn't believe it. These conversations were the sole interaction of their week; they didn't text each other, they didn't call each other, and they didn't visit. Piko's hesitant shyness made sure of that. And yet Piko couldn't come up with anything interesting. She scanned her mind to come up with a story from her own week.

"Well, I went to visit my family this week. Yesterday evening, actually. I got to meet one of my niece's friends. Imagine that, hm? We were visiting at the same time. Anyways, I was telling her friend about my brother and his wife because of course Len lacks the proper storytelling skills," Rin started. She paused, hoping Piko might ask about Len or Miku, or even Hana.

Silence.

"Her friend was a funny kid. Didn't talk much. I liked him though," Rin said, thinking about her dinner conversation the previous night and smiling inadvertently. As she thought about it more, she began to realize how different she felt and acted around Len and Miku as opposed to Piko. It was then that she wondered if Piko had a different side as well. She considered herself again. Why did it seem so bizarre to place the Rin who laughed and chatted with her close family in the situation of the Rin who ate lunch with Piko?

Rin looked over at Piko, who seemed to be staring intently at his lap. She was surprised to see this. Usually he managed to maintain fairly consistent eye contact at least through the first five minutes.

"Do you play piano?" Rin asked, trying to get him to look up. "I just thought about it because I was playing for my niece last night."

"I used to play guitar sometimes," Piko said.

"Can you sing?" Rin asked, spurred on by the fact that Piko hadn't managed to turn his answer into a question meant for her to answer.

Piko quickly shook his head and didn't offer any other explanation. Rin's shoulders sagged. She couldn't tell if he actually couldn't sing, or if he just didn't want to tell her he could. Of course she understood that some people just _could not sing_, but the possibility that he might be able to and was hiding it disappointed her.

"Was there anything you were really good at when you were younger?" Rin asked, feeling that this was the only way to incite Piko's participation.

"Not really," Piko replied. "I was interested in computers. That's about it."

Rin had to mentally remind herself why she continued talking to this man. He was literally giving her nothing. He could be so likeable, and yet…Rin couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was like Piko didn't believe he was worthy of her presence.

Rin wasn't conceited. She wouldn't have assumed something like that about Piko earlier, but by now, she was fairly certain of it: Piko simply felt like he was inferior to Rin. And Rin would have none of it.

Despite her strong female persona, Rin was a strong believer in the idea that men still deserved respect, including respect from themselves. Perhaps it was because she cared so much for Len. When she was younger, in order to display their affections for Rin, fans would sometimes put down the other gender, or compare her to her brother, saying she was far better. She had never understood it, seeing the way Len became visibly discouraged. Why couldn't people praise one person without degrading another?

She brushed the thought aside, turning her attention back to Piko. Deciding to try something out, Rin sat up straight and changed her tone. "Really? Do you know a lot about computers? I've never been smart enough to really get technical with those things," she said.

"No, I never did difficult stuff; I'm sure you'd pick up on it faster than me anyway," Piko said.

There it was again. Rin bit her tongue and thought about her response.

"Is that what you work with now? Computers?" Rin said, choosing to ignore Piko's statement altogether. It was a fairly easy thing to guess, based on small hints here and there that Rin had gathered when it came to what Piko's job was.

"You could say that. I don't do too much, though. I'm a consultant, officially, but I don't think I help nearly as many people as you do, being a teacher and all."

"What kind of consultant?" Rin asked, pushing on, even though every response cut her down further and further. Reflecting on her situation from a neutral standpoint for a very brief moment, Rin could see how Piko's statements would be perceived as normal and acceptable to the innocent onlooker. To her, however, they only provided more evidence of a formula. Downplay self, elevate others. All with complete sincerity and, Rin suspected, unawareness of just how much he was debasing himself.

"An IT consultant. I don't think—"

"I'm sure you're very good at it," Rin interrupted, before Piko could put himself down again. He obviously wasn't confident in his abilities in this area, so Rin searched for something he either enjoyed or felt confident in.

"Do you like to cook?" she asked. She figured it was a safe question. Staying at home so much, he had to prepare his own meals fairly often. The question of the matter was whether they were refined meals or not.

Piko's visage actually brightened. "Yeah," he said. "Do you?"

Rin resisted the temptation to voice her relief but laughed instead. "I wouldn't say I'm bad at it; I just have a certain knack for butchering instructions, so recipes don't go over well with me." Rin found herself pausing, waiting.

At first she didn't know what she was waiting for, but then she realized. If Miku had said something similar to her, or if Rin had said it to Len, the statement would be followed shortly by a sarcastic joke, maybe something to poke fun of the other party. Piko wouldn't do that though. So she stopped waiting for the insult and prepared herself for reassurance instead.

"I could cook for you, if you want," Piko said hesitantly. "Instead of coming to a restaurant, you know?"

Rin was taken aback. She had already put it past Piko to say something like that, but apparently he was making a comeback. Trying to recover herself, she nodded. "I'd love that," she said, not thinking. She blinked in realization of her own words. "I mean, yeah. I like eating other people's food. It always seems to taste better than my own. Of course, my brother is one of the best cooks I know…" Rin began to trail off.

"I'm probably not as good as him…"

Rin sighed internally. She had known it was too good to last.

"…But how about next week then? We can have lunch at my house."

Rin found herself smiling at this sudden leap in confidence—never mind the fact that it was interspersed with doubts.

"I think that would be nice," she replied. In the next moment, Rin realized with slight guilt that she had been manipulating Piko, in a way, to get this response. She couldn't just let the conversation flow. She had to steer it herself. To be fair, there was no conversation to be had; if Rin didn't want to be monologing the entire time, she had to give her prompts some sort of direction. That was all there was to it.

Piko nodded, and where the average person might have quickly come up with another topic of conversation, he was content to drop back into silence. Rin pursed her lips before picking up the slack. "So, have you ever been out of the country?"

Piko shook his head.

"I've been to the U.S.A. a couple of times," Rin said, replying to her own question no less.

"I know," was Piko's response. "For concerts and stuff, right? Is it nice there?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Rin said. It was a start. "It's a little different, but I also went a couple years ago, to take some courses to help my teaching, and I got to sightsee a bit. There are some really beautiful places there, but then again, there are really beautiful places here too."

"Did you have a lot of fans there, too? That showed up to concerts?"

"Sure, I mean it looked like there were plenty of people there," Rin said. "I tried not to pay too much attention to—"

"I wish I could have gone to one," Piko said, and Rin bit her tongue. Of course the one thing Piko wouldn't _stop_ talking about was her own past. Rin wouldn't mind talking about the past, if it weren't for the bitter taste that accompanied any mention of her success as a singer. It was like being reminded of competition, the competition she could never escape: a perfect Rin Kagamine.

"I don't know that the experience was all that exciting," Rin said, trying to downplay the topic with hopes that it might deter Piko from continuing.

However, it was with a sudden realization that Rin felt her shoulders beginning to sag. She was doing the exact same thing as Piko. The exact same thing.

Rin felt an irrational urge to cry well up within her. Sometimes she really hated herself, and at the moment, what she hated most was her inability to connect with Piko. Her interactions with Miku and Len were so much better than this. Rin never felt so frustrated when she talked to either of them. Why?

She knew why. They had all gone through it together; they understood each other's lives, and they all had the same respect for each other. Piko didn't stand a chance. And as the images of concerts and fans flew through her mind, Rin hated herself for it.

"No, if there's one thing I regret, it's never being able to attend one of those," Piko was saying. Rin's thoughts were brought back to the topic at hand. All at once, she gritted her teeth, her adrenaline rushing as Piko finished his sentence. "Well, that's not my only regret, but yeah."

"Piko!" Rin slammed the table as she stood up, and Piko's eyes widened. The dishes rattled slightly, and people near them looked around; Rin glanced at her surroundings briefly before fixing a glare on Piko. "Come with me," she demanded harshly, in a slightly lower volume.

Without another look at Piko, she marched herself out of the restaurant and a short ways down the sidewalk before whirling around; sure enough, Piko was right behind her, looking quite unnerved.

"I am not a celebrity, Piko!" Rin began again, raising her voice. "Stop wishing that you could be like me! You are not any different than me, you are not any less talented than me, you are not any less popular than me, and you are most certainly not below me! Wake up, Piko, and realize that _I respect you for who you are!"_ Rin paused, but only for a moment. "I want to get to know you, and not from just watching you sit quietly—I like listening to talk just as much as you seem to like listening to me!"

Rin finally breathed, feeling the angry flush in her cheeks, and watched Piko's expression change from fear to shame, his eyes lowering to gaze at the ground.

It was only for a second, though, before those mismatched eyes flickered up again to meet Rin's stare.


	5. A Flaw

A FLAW

Rin felt like the air had been knocked out of her.

"I'm sorry," Piko apologized.

"No! Don't apologize," Rin said, remembering why she had yelled in the first place. She was still angry, but the way he had looked at her...it was too familiar. "Give yourself a break. Do something besides being so nice to me. Be rude for once. Talk back," Rin said desperately, helplessly.

Piko was taken aback. "I can't," he said.

Rin closed her eyes and let out a weak laugh. "You just did."

Piko swallowed. He didn't know what had just come over Rin, but he had no idea how to react. If anything, her words weren't meant in direct response to the conversation. Piko had gathered that much. Rin was simply mad at him, he decided, and she had held it in until now.

"I don't know what else to say," he admitted quietly.

Rin opened her eyes again, and when she did, Piko realized that they weren't fierce anymore. If anything, she looked sad. He felt his own expression begin to match hers, and he realized he had been stupid to think that someone like Rin could have really been happy to talk to him. Whatever her motives had been before, they were utterly destroyed now. He was sure of it.

"I'll go back inside and pay," he said meekly, seeing that Rin was at a loss for words.

"No, I'm going to pay," Rin said suddenly, finding her voice again. Before Piko could respond in any way, she brushed past him, leaving him standing outside the restaurant on his own.

Contemplating for a moment with his gaze resting on the ground, Piko glanced back at the door before resigning himself and walking away. He thrust his hands into his pockets and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

He imagined for a moment what Rin was probably thinking. As soon as she saw that he had just left, maybe she'd be even more annoyed. Or maybe she'd just be glad he was gone. That would be it. That was his last conversation with Rin. She had said she wanted to get to know him, when she was yelling at him. Piko doubted it though—it would be like claiming to be happy when a family member dies. It's a nice sentiment, but everyone knows the truth. Some things just can't be fixed with sentiment alone.

Walking home by himself was more painful than it had ever been before. Piko felt that he had lost something, something important, even though that something was relatively new to his life. Despite their short-lived friendship, Piko had enjoyed Rin's company. She had shared her thoughts with him, and it made him feel like he had been given a life better than his own.

So when Piko reached his house, he lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, not really sure what to do with himself but not really caring. The empty void he hadn't realized existed before Rin's company suddenly made itself known, and it was then that he convinced himself that he had simply experienced the peak of life, and that was the most exciting thing that ever had happened or would happen to him, and any regret he felt afterwards was unavoidable. That was all there was to it.

Beyond Piko's thoughts, Rin stood in reality, looking around at the people outside the restaurant before hanging her head and kicking at the ground. She understood it now. When Piko had looked at her, after she finished yelling, she had seen her brother. It frightened her, at first, so when he apologized, she couldn't bring herself to return the apology, like she had always done with Len. It would have been too weird. But now, now that he was gone, she understood why.

She understood why she hated his shyness and unwillingness to see himself in a good light.

She had seen what it did to Len.

Moreover, she understood why he had apologized, why he had left, and why she would probably never hear from him again unless she were to make the next move.

She had seen Len do it to Miku.

And while Rin knew that the feelings between those two were far different from her situation, knowing that she had triggered a similar disheartenment weakened her beyond belief. She trudged home, feeling numbness settle over her as she pictured Piko walking home, dejected. It triggered nostalgia, bringing to mind the sad look Len gave her when he came home from a walk with Miku one day, and Rin found herself wanting to throw something out of sheer frustration with herself.

She reached home at last, and, after closing the door behind her, stood in the entryway for a couple of minutes, numb to her surroundings. She had a decision to make—it was all on her—and she didn't want to face it. Perhaps to remain still would fool the universe, and time would stop for her.

She finally shook her head. She didn't need time to stop; she needed it to rewind. However, since it would do neither for her, all she could do was move forward, in one way or another. She pulled out her phone as she walked to her room before letting herself fall heavily on her bed, curling up sideways with the phone in hand.

She stared at the phone.

And stalled.

Her eyes became unfocused.

She still didn't call.

She closed her eyes.

The phone slid down between her fingers to rest on the bed.

In all honesty, Rin didn't mean to fall asleep. When she woke up, however, and breathed in the familiar scent of her bedsheets, she felt a little bit better. Seeing the phone under her hand, she sat up and waited for the sleep to fall away before picking up the phone once again and flipping it over and over in her hands.

In a fit of frustration, Rin gripped the phone and began searching for Piko's name in the contacts, but as soon as she found it and was about to call, unease shot through her and her shoulders sagged in dejection.

It really shouldn't be so hard, Rin realized, glancing down at his name. What was there to be afraid of? Piko certainly wouldn't reject an apology, would he?

Rin pushed that new thought away. No, what held her back was her pride. The idea of being wrong, of having to crawl back to the wronged party and redeem herself, it terrified her. Never before had her initiative been the difference between a relationship and nought; never before had anyone left the restoration to her.

When Rin had argued with or offended Miku, the sweet girl either put it behind them and carried on the friendship, or she had been the first to apologize, even if she hadn't done anything wrong. Miku had a way of apologizing that pierced Rin with enough guilt to drag a shamefaced atonement out of her.

When Rin and Len lost their temper at each other, neither apologized afterwards, but made a tradition of feeling sorry and leaving small tokens of reparation for the other to find, and soon the relationship would be back to normal.

When Rin had disrespected an authority, it was nearly impossible to get a sincere apology out of her, but those relationships didn't depend on that, so she had scooted by on pouts and tears.

This dynamic was all wrong though. Rin was no longer the one in power. She was being blackmailed by her own desires, and if she couldn't do the one simple task of calling Piko, both she and Piko would lose.

Falling backwards against the mattress once again, Rin stared at the ceiling. It really shouldn't be so hard. She lifted the phone high above her face with an outstretched arm, dangling it between her thumb and middle finger. It promptly fell and hit her in the nose.

Rin rolled over onto her stomach and rubbed her nose before propping herself up on her elbows and grabbing the phone again. She squinted at it, but it wasn't long before her eyes widened and she cried out in surprise when she realized what she had done.

"Hello?"

Rin jolted up to a sitting position and tapped the "end call" button furiously, pressing the phone to her chest after she was sure she had terminated the call. She stared at the wall, waiting for her panicked breathing to slow down and holding the phone out again so she could look at it.

"Idiot idiot idiot!" Rin chanted at herself. She closed her eyes and shook her head. For a moment, she wondered if Piko might call back, but she knew better. She gritted her teeth and glared at the phone. "It shouldn't…be…this…hard!"

She pressed call, on purpose this time, mumbling "Idiot" to herself once more. For good measure, she put it on speakerphone and threw the phone down a good distance away.

She heard it ring. Once. Twice. Three times. It didn't ring again, but there was no greeting either.

"Piko?" she said tentatively.

"Rin?"

"Ummm yes. Hello."

"You actually meant to call me?"

Rin tilted her head sideways onto her shoulder and let her gaze travel around the room. "Yes." After more silence, Rin sighed. "Sorry…for yelling. I didn't mean to turn you away."

"Are you mad at me?"

Rin was surprised he actually asked. In all honesty, she was, but she didn't expect Piko to confront her for an answer. "If I say yes, will you run away again?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. Rin inched closer to the phone. "I didn't run away," he finally said.

"Well…it sure seemed like it." Rin pursed her lips, reminding herself of why she called. "I just want to talk to you."

"Then go ahead," Piko replied.

"When I…yelled at you…it wasn't the best way to say it, but what I said was true," Rin started. "Do you realize how much you insult yourself?"

"Insult myself?"

"I'll take that as a no. Piko, I just—I thought about it. I really don't mind your personality," Rin said. She rolled her head back to stare at the ceiling. "I really like it." She took a deep breath and looked back at the phone. "But you never give yourself a break, you know? You need some confidence. Do something impulsive. Did you plan to talk to me again after you left today?"

"…I wanted to," Piko said quietly.

"But did you _intend_ to?"

There was silence. "No," Piko finally admitted. Rin could hear the shame in his voice.

"That's what I mean. You gotta speak up, Piko. I'd listen to anything you have to say."

"Really?"

Rin fell over sideways on the bed and put her hand over her eyes. "I mean…yeah. I don't know how to describe it, exactly. I want us to work, to be friends, but it feels wrong, I guess..."

"Wrong?" There was disappointment in the word. "I think I get it though."

"Well, I don't really like the idea of telling people to change because I don't like the way they do something. But I also don't like the idea of tolerating something you know is harmful simply because you don't want to be too pushy. There's a balance. Would you agree?" Rin asked hesitantly. It was a thin line to walk.

"I get it, sort of. So maybe we're missing honesty?"

Rin bristled at this. "I haven't been lying!" she said, but her heart sank at the same time. It wasn't like she was always genuine, either. "What should we do then?"

"Maybe you had it right. When you called me out. If you just pretend you don't mind, it'll always feel wrong, right?" Piko suggested.

Rin considered it. "That sounds right." She sat up again. "We have to start somewhere. How about we start with what you know you don't like about yourself. Like a flaw. I'll say one first." Rin hesitated. Honesty. "I'm selfish."

"I'm sensitive."

"I want to be young forever."

"Don't most people?"

"Well, yeah." Rin laughed. "I'm stuck in my memories."

"I'm stuck in my house."

Rin laughed again. "I insult people without thinking."

"I..."

Piko had been about to say something, but stopped short. Rin waited for a moment. "You what?"

"Well this one is more embarrassing," he said sheepishly.

Rin picked up the phone and turned the speaker off, even though there was no one else in the house. She thought quickly in order to make a deal. "I don't have anything really embarrassing to tell you in return, but if you tell me, I'll tell you the one I'm most afraid of saying. Honesty, right?"

"I cry easily."

Rin was going to laugh, but she turned the corners of her mouth down to stop it. "I think you mentioned something like that before," she said. "That's not too bad." She grinned, but quickly pursed her lips as she remembered her own confession. "I'm lonely."

Both were quiet for a moment. Rin was beginning to process the vulnerabilities, the wounds she had just exposed. Her stomach twisted as she realized she couldn't take any of it back, but neither could Piko.

"That figures," he said.

Rin frowned. "What do you mean, 'that figures'?"

"Nothing!" Piko quickly saved himself. "Well, I just thought of all people, you couldn't possibly be lonely. You kept telling me about your family, and I thought since you were famous you'd have plenty of people willing to be your friend. But it figures, that loneliness can even trouble such a person."

"Ironic huh?" Rin remarked, relaxing a little. "I don't tell just anybody that, though, so you keep it to yourself. Don't go telling people that I'm ruined and past my success. It'll ruin my bright and shiny renown."

"I don't think I'll get around to telling people much of anything, much less that," Piko said, with slight amusement in his voice.

Rin smiled at this. It was almost a joke. Something comfortable.

"Right. Well then, you'd better tell me where you live, because if I remember correctly, you're cooking for me next week, right?"

Whether Piko was collecting his thoughts or hesitating, Rin didn't know but it was a couple of seconds before Piko answered. "No, tell me where you live, so I can walk you over."

Rin rolled her eyes, but smiled a little. The gesture seemed benign, now, and she was secretly eager to accept such an offer. "Alright. I'll tell you a location, you tell me a time. But don't misjudge how long it'll take to get to my house, because I might fall asleep waiting. That's another weakness of mine."

Piko laughed.

* * *

><p><strong>I'ma put my note here for this chapter. <strong>Since it's a continuation of the last chapter and everything. A little shorter this time, but I was out of my country for a competition over the past week and I didn't have any access to the document, so I had to finish the chapter when I got back this evening. Ah well. I hope you enjoyed it!

Also, if I have a headcanon for Rin's character within a fanfiction that uses a headcanon universe, is that trait canon or headcanon? I confuse myself. Anyway, I always imagine she has this weakness when it comes to Len and anybody that reminds her of him, because he was her male counterpart/role model and she also watched him carefully and understood a lot of things about himself that even he didn't understand, and it caused her pain sometimes. That's just me rambling on though...

c:


	6. REAL

**Okay, this is probably my favorite chapter.** Maybe even more than the actual ending. Which may be why it's so long, and why I'm uploading it tonight rather than tomorrow :3 This is about the halfway point, just so you're aware-but without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

><p>REAL<p>

A couple of times, it crossed Rin's mind that she might never stop.

A couple of times, it also occurred to her that it couldn't continue on forever.

Simply put, Rin was caught in a dilemma of the mind. It stemmed from a desire to see into the future and grew from the desire to keep the same future hidden. After making up with Piko, Rin spent her days normally, but with all the more anticipation for Sunday. Not just the first Sunday, either, but every one after that as well. It was something of an addiction, or a habit she had created, to meet with this friend every week.

Rin couldn't picture herself eating lunch with Piko 20 years from now. She also couldn't picture a sooner point at which they would spontaneously stop. It was a mental trap she had created, in which she was doomed to stay oblivious to the future because she simply lacked the ability to see beyond more of the same.

There was no apparent reason for it to end, but at the same time, Rin had sometimes dared to let her mind wander past a constant tomorrow. If, perhaps, there wasn't to be an end, but something was bound to change, would the result be a progression?

Despite her subconscious confusion, Rin greatly enjoyed her discussions with Piko. When he began to speak his mind, it amazed Rin how deep his thoughts were. Perhaps that was what he had dubbed being too "sensitive," but Rin rather reveled in it. It led her to consider more of her own thoughts, and consider them more deeply.

On one occasion, sometime after snow began to fall, Rin and Piko decided on a tea house for their afternoon. With the grey light streaming in through the window and the quiet murmur of conversations taking place throughout the shop, Rin and Piko were inclined to remain in a melancholy mood. They sat side by side on a couch, at first sharing relaxed and easy conversation, but Rin's mind soon became restless.

"I've been watching people, Piko," she said slowly, at a lull in the dialogue.

"What about them?" he asked.

"I've been trying to see if there's something I'm missing. If I never developed a certain spectrum of feelings that I'm supposed to be capable of. And you know what I've decided?" Rin asked.

"Mm?"

"There's no such thing as a selfless person," Rin said bitterly. "People are selfish. Even when someone is always nice, or diligent, or trustworthy, it's only because they're trying to distract themselves from their personal problems. Selflessness isn't real, Piko."

Piko sat back, looking disappointedly at his lap. "Maybe you're right," he said.

Rin looked over at him and inhaled through her mouth before closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly as she breathed out again, berating herself. "No, I'm sorry, I don't think—"

"No, it's okay, you may be on to something." Piko assumed a serious air as Rin opened her eyes and leaned back in her seat. "But then how would you explain love?" he asked. It had been the first time Rin heard him question an idea of hers, and it earned a mark of significance in her head.

"Love?" Rin asked. Neither bothered to look at the other as they spoke, only staring up at whatever happened to hold their unfocused gazes. "I don't know if love is real either."

"You don't believe the people who say 'I love you'?"

Rin thought about her brother. "I—" she stopped. She couldn't answer yet. Silence took its place between them, but this time it was so that Rin could think. Piko understood this, so he waited.

"I think people are capable of love, but it's not unconditional love. You have to be pretty strong to love someone," Rin finally said. "To be able to hate them but realize that if all you do is hate people, you'll never experience the best things in life. It's that selfishness again, treating people in certain ways just to feel good about yourself. But yeah, to have the strength to rebuild a relationship time and time again, I'd say that's what people should call love."

"The way that you think about that is…" Piko stopped himself there, content to keep the significance to himself. He couldn't suppress a small smile, though, as he thought about Rin calling him after getting mad at him the previous month. "So you think love is selfish, too?"

"Of course. It sounds wrong, but I've just decided to come to grips with the fact that humans are flawed creatures. Think about someone you love. For me, I can say one person for sure is my brother. Now think about what makes you love that person. If that person were to suddenly stop doing or being whatever is lovable about them, how would you feel? You wouldn't love them anymore. You might even begin to hate them. But hate makes you feel terrible inside, so soon you'd say, 'Ah, I guess I should try to love this person again. I don't feel good about myself when I'm busy hating them.' And that's the basic cycle of things, if you're honest with yourself."

"Maybe." Piko sighed and put his hands behind his head. "But think about it this way. Think about your brother. Perhaps you don't simply love certain aspects of him, like you assume, but you love _him_. As a person. And the reason you begin to hate him is because he does something that upsets your—not you specifically, but applying to people in general—selfish pride. But love is so strong that it trumps even this egotistical impulse, and you're able to put yourself second again in order to put someone else first. Not because it makes you feel better, but because it makes them feel better."

"That's the longest I've heard you talk at once," Rin said, though her tone didn't give away any of her surprise or amusement. She was too impressed with the surety of Piko's counterargument to consider feeling offended by his assessment. "You truly believe it's possible to want the best for someone else before yourself?"

Piko sat up straighter and looked over at Rin, drawing her gaze back to him. She found him to be watching her intently, neither smiling nor frowning. "You say that love is selfish because it makes you feel good. But I think, if you ask yourself a question, you'll think otherwise."

"What's that question?"

"Would you make the ultimate sacrifice for someone you love?"

Rin's breath caught in her chest. "You mean…die for them?" Piko nodded.

Rin's mind whirled with this idea. It was such a grand gesture, something that happened in made-up stories, perhaps in wars. "That's a really hard question," she said while still processing the thought. "I don't know if I could answer honestly, without being in the situation," she added, ashamed.

For a short few seconds, Rin was reminded of dreams she had had over the course of her life, sequences of horrific accidents that left her breathless and in cold sweat upon waking up. They always featured something or someone killing off everyone she cared about as she watched helplessly. She never died.

"It's a very possible situation, though," Piko said gravely. "My dad had to answer it, a long time ago. He died saving my mother and me from a fire."

Rin was speechless. She didn't know how to respond. Would she do that for anyone? She desperately wanted to say yes, when she thought about Len, Miku, her mother, Hana. But it was called the ultimate sacrifice for a reason.

"So that's why I believe real love doesn't—can't—depend on your own desires. It really is possible to put others before yourself, no matter what feeling or fate awaits yourself," Piko concluded quietly.

"I see."

It had been then that Rin felt a sort of peace in herself, though what it was born from she couldn't say, and she relaxed once again. Perhaps it was everyone else that was missing out on certain feelings. Perhaps there were only a handful of people in the world who could understand the depth that such a love could reach, and the person next to her was one of them, because he had been on the receiving end of it.

Of course, not all their meals were so thoughtful. Earlier in the month, when Rin had visited Piko's house, she had been in a much lighter mood, complimenting Piko on his food and holding a lively discussion on worst mistakes.

It had started as a continuation of their discussion on their own flaws and was soon given an entertaining spin as Rin related time after time that she embarrassed herself in front of people. It made her feel better, to admit such experiences. They were far enough removed that she could laugh at herself, but it also made her feel less like her own foe. She really hadn't been _that_ perfect when she was younger.

After meeting the newest singer to be hired after her, for instance, Rin made the mistake of assuming that she was a lesbian.

"I don't even know why I was so sure of it," she had told Piko, laughing, knowing her face was turning red from the memory. "But I guess it just seemed like it to me. And one day I mentioned it to her, and she just gave me this look. I don't think she was offended or anything, but then I think she wondered if I was interested in her."

"Who was it?" Piko had inquired.

"Luka Megurine." Rin had said it sheepishly. "I can't even begin to tell you how stupid I felt when I realized I had been wrong."

"That's not the worst that could happen," Piko had replied, joining in. "One of my teachers from when I was in elementary school went an entire month thinking I was a girl."

"Oh my goodness. That's terrible," Rin had said, laughing. "How did your teacher realize you were actually a boy?"

"I started talking like one. When the teacher corrected me, one of my classmates came to my aid, and then I realized that my teacher had thought I was a girl. I was really embarrassed, and knowing how embarrassed the teacher was too, it made it worse." Piko shook his head.

At that point Rin had given Piko a sympathetic smile, but it wasn't possible to hide the laughter in her eyes. Piko didn't seem too upset at her amusement, though, and they had moved on, each trying to make the other laugh.

It hadn't been long since then when Rin finally decided to clue Miku in on her weekly outings over a phone conversation one day.

"Ohh, Rin has a boyfriend now?" Miku had inquired innocently. Rin quickly shot down that notion, but Miku refused to give up her cheery questioning of Rin's attachment to this figure. Rin was careful with the information she gave Miku, knowing that the silly person would exaggerate all of it as she told Len. Still, it felt good to tell Miku about Piko. It seemed like he was finally connected now, even though he still hadn't met Rin's family; it was like he was no longer an outsider, but someone included in Rin's core relationships.

"I'm really happy for you, Rin," Miku said, after Rin had said all she was willing to say on the subject.

"Miku," Rin complained, "that makes it sound different than it is…"

"Maybe, but all the same, you need to branch out! Spread your wings!" she said. Rin could only imagine the look on her face as she said such silly things. "You won't live forever," came the final reminder.

"I'm doing my best," Rin said, somewhat sullenly.

"You sound like you're frowning, Rin," Miku chided. "I don't think it's healthy to frown so much."

"I really do like my life right now," Rin said, making an effort to sound less frown-y.

"Beeeeecaaaauuuse you have a new friend?"

"You know, I actually enjoy my job too," Rin retorted. "It makes for a hard situation I guess, since I get attached to kids for a year and then they move on, and they're _kids_, nonetheless, so it's not really like I'm able to form a lasting relationship with them beyond one of mentor and pupil."

"I see, Rin can't make friends because she has too many temporary sons and daughters to take care of!" Miku was still joking, of course, until she changed her tone in the next sentence back to her real voice, the voice of a wife and a mother. "Maybe Rin should remember to take care of herself, too."

Rin had nothing to say to this, for a while. "What's your point?" she finally asked.

"Maybe there isn't one!" she said cheerfully. "Say hello to Piko, for me! I have to go now, byebye."

Rin laughed and shook her head. "Bye."

The conversation with Miku made Rin realize something had changed within her. In their normal banter, Rin felt that something was missing. It didn't take her long to place the odd longing—it was simply that now she missed the elements of conversation gained when she spoke with Piko.

She laughed at the irony of it. That a couple of weeks could be the difference between one norm and another. Before, such a conversation with Miku would have been what Rin desired. Now, she found that she favored something else. Both friends were dear, but one had stolen a part of Rin that she wasn't sure she could give away.

It was late November, over a month since the argument that Rin had begun to recognize as the turning point in their relationship. Rin doubted she could ever be a counselor or something like that, because she really had no idea what she had done to help turn things around, but she knew something had clicked, and was all the happier for it.

It also happened to be Sunday once again, and they had chosen the warmth of Rin's home for the occasion, since Piko hadn't yet seen her house and had successfully flattered Rin into trying to cook well for him.

"On one condition," she had told him. "Bring your guitar."

She knew he had one and that he could play. It was only a matter of favor-swapping. She would cook for him, he would play for her. Neither wanted to perform their own task, but both wanted to see the the other's.

Thus it was that he showed up with his guitar in tow, looking quite hesitant but on time and polite as always, and Rin presented him with the end product of nervous preparation. Luckily, Rin had finished the meal in time, allowing them to eat immediately as an escape from any initial awkwardness.

The first beginnings of conversation came from Piko. "I know it's pretty late to bring it up, but I've been wondering for a while…does it really bother you when I don't talk?" he asked.

Rin thought about this. It _did_. But she couldn't justify it, and she knew that was what Piko would want her to do next. "I guess it's not just when you're quiet, it's when you hold back something you ought to say, something that's on your mind. You have a lot of good things to say, which I know because now that you talk more, I get to hear them," Rin said. "So I guess it was just really annoying at first when you wouldn't say any of it."

"So if I really just didn't have anything to say, and wanted to be quiet, you'd be okay with it?" he questioned.

"Honestly, it'd probably still make me feel uncomfortable. But I guess you're trying to say talking a lot makes you uncomfortable?"

Piko nodded.

"Then it seems we've reached an impasse!" Rin declared suddenly, channeling Miku's attitude.

"That impels me to find a solution," Piko said, keeping a straight face.

Rin caught on quickly. "Impossible!"

"Only if you impede my progress."

"What are you implying?"

"That you're too imperious."

Rin opened her mouth in shock at the accusation, momentarily appalled that Piko had actually said something like that. "Wow, maybe you should improve your manners and come back when you know how to talk to a woman." The amusement showed clearly on her face, though.

"That's just me working my improv. Sorry for my imprudence."

"Okay, I'm actually impressed."

"May I implore you to tell me why?"

"First of all, that you've kept it up this long," Rin tilted her head, "and secondly, that you're actually being rather impudent." She grinned.

"Well on that note," Piko continued seriously. "Your cooking is terrible."

"Piko!" Rin cried indignantly. The game was over.

"You should know that's an absolute lie," Piko said, cracking a smile. "And it was really hard to say that to you without apologizing immediately."

She shot him a look of skepticism, but she knew he was telling the truth. She soon put the joking aside and confronted the sudden brashness. "Why this all of the sudden?"

Piko shrugged, becoming thoughtful again. "It seems like you'd prefer it, sometimes."

"I'm not always right, you know," and for once, Rin was glad to admit it. "The rest of the world could learn a thing or two from you about the difference between a joke and an insult. It makes me wish I could go back and change a lot of things I've said." Upon a second thought, she continued. "So don't ever change, in that respect."

"And what about the talking-no talking thing?" Piko asked, looking somewhat red-faced.

"I think…I'll get used to it. To you not talking much, I mean. Because as long as I know you're doing it because it feels natural, it won't feel so awkward, probably. Right?" she asked, questioning her logic. She shrugged and stood to clear away dishes. "You be you, I'll be me, and whenever we reach a point where conversation stops, I'll probably just laugh because I know you're weird and happen to be okay with such unconventional conduct. Mmkay?" She came back from the sink and smiled, putting her hands on her hips. "Anyways, you owe me a song."

Piko reluctantly fetched his guitar while Rin sat down on a couch in the living room.

"Any song I want?" Piko asked, coming to sit on the other end of the couch.

"Any song you want," Rin confirmed.

"Just one?"

"Well, I'd _prefer_ more," Rin said, "but if you really suck, I'll probably have to ask you to stop."

"So straightforward," Piko mumbled, looking down at the instrument. Rin propped her chin on her hand and waited.

When Piko started playing, Rin's mind instantly recognized the song, but it took her a moment to pull the name out of the past. When she finally latched onto it, she nearly laughed aloud; it was _Melt_, completely unsuitable for Piko. It sounded quite nice on the guitar, which was probably why Piko had learned it, but all the same, Rin couldn't believe he was playing such a cutesy song for her.

When he finished, Rin applauded happily, pleased that he was actually good, and demanded an encore.

"If you know and remember the chords for any of my songs, I'd sing for you," Rin offered. It had been a long time, but if he remembered _Melt_, there was a good possibility he remembered others.

Piko's eyes widened. "You'd really sing?"

Rin laughed. "Of course I would. It's not a big deal—singing doesn't exactly make me uncomfortable. Now, no promises on the quality, since I'm a little out of practice, but—"

"_Meltdown_?"

Rin paused, registering that he had just requested the song. "YES!" she cried. "Hold on, follow me." She jumped up and ran into a connecting room. She flipped on the light switch and sat down at a grand piano in the corner. "Okay, quick, tune your guitar to this piano. I can play it too," she said. "You learned it in the original key, right?" she asked. He nodded, completely taken off guard by Rin's enthusiasm.

"Alright alright," Rin said happily, waiting for Piko to take action. While he did so, she continued to talk. "Such a fun song. Kind of hard to play, but fun. Also, all these songs with "melt" in the title. Piko, were you by any chance excessively warm when you were younger?"

Rin stared at Piko with a straight face, and he stared back, unimpressed.

"Oh come on it was a great joke," Rin said. Piko shook his head and went back to fiddling with his instrument. Rin took the opportunity to refresh her memory a bit, hitting a couple of notes.

"Okay, ready?" Piko asked, and Rin nodded. Piko sat down on the end of the bench, facing away from the piano and making sure to be far enough away from the keys so that Rin could reach them.

He tapped the guitar—one, two, three, four—and the duet began, slowly and carefully, and not without a mistake here and there, but it was music, shared music, and Rin at the very least relaxed. She was in her element.

And she sang. Natural, unaffected, pure singing. It was something beyond happiness, to her. Comforted by the presence of accompaniment, Rin almost didn't want the song to end.

When it did, though, Rin couldn't hide her enthusiasm. "We should do more songs together," she said, turning to look at Piko. "It sounds so wonderful."

"Are you sure?" Piko said, knowing they had messed up several times. He opened his mouth to speak again, but averted his gaze first. "You sound really good in person, by the way. People said you wouldn't, because your vocals were so heavily manipulated in songs, but you do."

"Thank you," Rin said, ducking her head slightly. "I think…people take it for granted that because I'm famous, it doesn't matter to me if I get a compliment. It still makes me happy to get one though." She smiled in time for Piko to meet her gaze. "It was nice to have someone playing along," she added.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, letting his eyes drift down again. It wasn't long before he looked back up and stood abruptly, holding his arm. "It's probably about time for me to go though. I don't want to overstay my welcome."

Rin gave him a look, as if to tell him that was a silly idea, but he had already started heading back to the main rooms. She quickly got up and followed him to the door, where she bid him goodbye as he put on his coat to head out into the winter air.

"Stay warm, but don't melt, Piko!" she called after him as he left. He stopped and turned to look at her. Rin grinned. She waved again, but Piko only shook his head and kept walking. She was sure she had caught him smiling, though.

* * *

><p><strong>-winks at snailing-along-<strong>

Also, super small _The Way It Always Was_ references. I mostly put them in there to amuse myself though. Kudos if you catch them.


	7. The Night Before Christmas

**Fun fact:** this is the first chapter I wrote in this story. Of course I edited a little after I wrote the preceding chapters, but yeah, this was my motivation haha. Enjoy ;)

* * *

><p>THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS<p>

"Have any plans for this Friday night?"

That was how it had started, on the way home from lunch one Sunday afternoon in December.

"I'm going to visit my brother and his wife next weekend, but this Saturday is…Friday is Christmas Eve," Rin looked sharply at Piko after realizing. "Why, what did you have in mind?"

Piko shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "We always get lunch, I just thought we could get dinner for once, and maybe look at the lights."

Rin quickly made connections in her mind, but after taking another look at Piko's body language, she decided not to press the subject. "That sounds nice," she said. "I should be free then. It's not like I have any other good friends around here." After deciding it was okay to ask, she added, "Isn't it difficult to get a table in restaurants on Christmas Eve, though?"

"Nah, it's fine. I already took care of it."

"Oho, so sure of ourselves are we?" Rin teased. "Then I guess it's settled. I'll see you Friday evening at…what time?"

"Seven o' clock," Piko said.

"Got it," Rin said.

So the date was set, and Rin went through her week normally, never forgetting the dinner she had to look forward to at the end of the school week. When the day came, and Rin took off her coat after arriving home from work, she went into her room and closed the door. Butterflies tickled her stomach as she saw herself in the bathroom mirror, and she tried to see herself through somebody else's eyes.

Her dark blonde hair was stick straight, mischievously moving this way and that; some of it stuck behind her shoulders, some hung in front, and other strong-willed strands floated airily out to the sides. She brushed it down with a scowl on her face, examining her eyes next. The makeup she had applied so carefully in the morning now looked to Rin like it had been done by a five-year-old, but she moved her focus to her eyes themselves, trying to remain objective to her own appearance. She lost herself in the blue irises for a moment, and then smiled a little.

Her gaze moved down to her clothes, and then back to her face as a whole. People weren't looking at her clothes anymore, she told herself. The people that cared about her looked to her face, and as she stared at it, she tried to love herself. She thought about the people she personally loved, like Len and Miku, and the image of their smiles came to mind, or moments when they laughed, moments when they looked perfect to Rin. And so Rin smiled, and her thoughts moved towards Piko.

Did he see her smile when he thought about her? Did he think about her at all? Rin was sure he did. After all, she thought about him. The meals she had shared with him had only let her glimpse bits of him, and yet she was very sure that she could depend on his friendship for a long time.

The hopeful part of Rin wanted to focus on the fact that he had asked her to dinner on Christmas Eve, but the practical side told her it was better not to jump to conclusions about other people. So she picked out an outfit, forcing herself to stick with the first one she chose, telling herself that it wasn't worth the time to be unsatisfied, and continued preparing for dinner.

Just before seven, Rin pulled on her coat, grabbed her purse, and headed out into the cold. Thankfully, the weather was mild for winter, and the only snow that was on the ground was melting, so she wasn't too affected by the temperature.

She approached the bridge where they had begun to meet when walking into town; her eyes flickered to the arch above the entrance onto the bridge, where mistletoe was hung in the spirit of Christmas. She half-smiled to herself as she saw Piko standing on the far side of the bridge, waiting for her patiently.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hi," he said shortly, glancing behind briefly as they started walking.

Two simple strands of white lights had been laid on either side of the road, leading them all the way out of the neighborhood and into the city. Rin walked alongside Piko, leading him in light conversation as he led her on the way to their destination.

The restaurant was a bit nicer than their normal lunch stops, one Rin had only been to maybe once or twice a year. Once she and Piko were seated, that unavoidable silence settled between them, as if testing their resolve.

"This is a little weird to me," Rin said, breaking the silence before laughing nervously.

"We eat lunch all the time though," Piko said.

"But this is…" Rin started, but she smiled inadvertently as her gaze found the table. "Nevermind. Do you have any family you spend the New Year with?" she asked, changing the subject quickly.

He shook his head. "I told you about my dad already, and my mom passed away a few years ago. I don't have any siblings."

"Oh," Rin said, feeling uncomfortable again. "Do you want to come with me when I visit my brother? You'd probably get along pretty well," she said.

"No, that's fine," Piko said, looking at Rin apologetically. "You don't have to share your family with me."

Rin's voice faltered even as she tried to speak, and all that managed to come out was a small "Ah." Her mind raced furiously to salvage the mood. She was so good at doing that when she wasn't the one in the spotlight.

"But I'd like to hear about them," Piko said, lifting his chin a little and smiling. "About _them_, as people, not the company."

"Eh?" Rin was taken aback, but she nodded. A small bit of happiness arose within her. Piko had finally asked about her family. "Well...you know who Len and Miku are, of course, but I guess you want my thoughts?"

Piko nodded and leaned back in his chair, lifting his gaze from Rin's lips to her eyes.

Rin laughed a little as she remembered things about Miku and Len, heedless of Piko's stare. "Well, Len is actually the biggest dork I know," she said. "And Miku is a loser, too." She reconsidered her words and tried to subdue her smile. "That probably sounds mean, but trust me, they know. And, well, even if they have a lot of issues themselves, they're perfect together," she said, looking down at her lap.

Rin shook her head slightly and looked back up apologetically. "Len is as dense as they come, really. He can't ever really tell what people think about him, even if they practically say it to his face, and it was that kind of thing that made him so easy to tease. But it also made me feel like I had to compensate, when we were growing up, to make sure he didn't get hurt by his inability to read people.

"Of course I'm sure you can guess Len and I were pretty worried when we first signed a contract with the company. We didn't know what it would be like, and we both went about it in different ways. Len tried to be all cold and I'm-too-cool-for-these-people while I came in ready to rise to the top," she said with a small laugh, slightly embarrassed.

"We were both pulled out of our own little universes when we met Miku, though. Never before had I met someone so sincere in life, so clumsy but always worrying for others. And while she was fun to hang out with, we both knew she was much smarter, and wiser, and more caring than she looked. I don't see her much anymore, but I know becoming a mother really brought out the best in her.

"Oh, and that daughter of hers, my niece, may look like an exact replica of her, but don't be fooled—when she opens her mouth, I still hear Len. It's kind of cute, actually. And funny. I always point out the things that annoy Len as the exact same things he did."

"Like what?" Piko asked.

"Ah, he gets so annoyed when she parodies the actions of people older than herself in order to make fun of them, but he did the exact same thing when he was younger," Rin replied, grinning.

"What annoying things did you do when you were younger?" Piko asked, tilting his head.

Rin hesitated. More flaws. "I played video games and watched TV too much," she said, knowing that annoyed Len. "I didn't take much too seriously and I talked too loudly, and then…" Rin paused, her smile disappearing. "I was kind of a burden sometimes, I think, to Len, and Miku, and most other people, but they never said anything. I was pretty selfish," she said. "I am selfish," she corrected herself.

"You know, I've decided I believe people are only selfish because they don't know how it feels to be selfless," Piko remarked.

Rin stared blankly for a moment. He hadn't corrected her, or even a more likely response: pretended he didn't mind. He had almost invited her, in a way, to try something new. And she had no idea how to respond. But finally she said, "I'd never thought about that before," and the conversation dropped back to a lighter topic, carrying on surprisingly easily throughout the rest of the evening, until it was over, and Rin was grabbing her coat off the back of the chair while Piko put his wallet back in his pocket.

Bells hanging from the door jingled lightly as Rin pressed against it, followed closely by Piko, who held it open as she finished walking into the cold air. Rin thrust her hands deep into her coat pockets as she turned to face Piko, a smile finding its way to her lips.

"That was fun, I guess," Rin said, folding her hands behind her back and falling into step next to Piko.

"Yeah." Piko looked at the ground with a half-smile.

There was silence; Rin looked around, absentmindedly taking in all the snow and the lights, and all of the couples holding hands, or laughing together, or hugging, or eating together. It was Christmas Eve, after all, she told herself. She glimpsed the interiors of comfortably lit shops and restuarants that lined the streets, looked up at the early night sky and tried to imagine what it would be like if the stars and the moon were the only lights around. She let a cheerful melody float through her mind and she pressed her hands to her cheeks to try to warm up her face. It struck her that her mind wouldn't focus on any one thought, as if everything she knew were floating around in an untouchable portion of her mind, but that was okay. There was no need to think. She simply took in her surroundings until her senses were overwhelmed, and then she glanced back at the man walking beside her.

And she tried so very hard not to pay attention to the warmth in her soul.

She wouldn't be the first to admit it, of course. Rin was too proud for that. Not even Len knew how she felt about Piko. Or maybe he had guessed. Rin wasn't sure, since she hadn't told him anything directly. He had once called her "incapable of love," as a joke, but it stuck with Rin in a way that ate at her conscience. All she knew was that as soon as the subject crossed her mind momentarily, it suddenly would not leave. So she tried to distract herself.

"You're awfully talkative this evening," she said. It was sarcasm, of course. Neither had said a word in the last three minutes.

"We just spent the past two hours talking over dinner," Piko said, sounding surprised.

"Most of which was me, of course." Rin tapped her nose for effect.

"Don't you think it works best that way, though?" Piko looked over at Rin and smiled, knowing he was right.

Rin sighed and let a smile tug at the corner of her lips. "Perhaps," she said with a wave of her hand before looking back to the sidewalk. The silence grew between them again.

As they walked further along, Rin sensed that Piko was becoming shy again. It was just something that she could feel now, a sort of cloud that descended upon him, warning her that he was becoming comfortable with silence once again. She was learning to be comfortable with it too, but tonight, she felt like something needed to be said.

She wanted to break the silence. "So…" she let her voice trail off, not exactly sure what she was going to say next. "Are we dating, then? I mean, that's what tonight was, wasn't it?"

It had about the same effect as a brick wall falling between them. Judging from Piko's audible surprise, Rin hadn't exactly broken the ice gently. Maybe she had cracked it. Or decimated it. Because of course now Piko had to answer—but he sure wasn't feeling any more comfortable, contrary to Rin's previous intentions.

Piko reached behind his head and let his hand slide across the back of his neck as he looked anywhere else besides Rin. "Do you want to be?" he asked.

Rin thought about it. Since they had met, almost four months ago, they had almost always spent time together one way or another at least once a week. At first Rin had genuinely just been enjoying time with a new friend, but she had slowly come to accept that she would be stupid to assume nothing more would come from it.

For a while, it had been clear enough to Rin at least that there was something beneath their guise of friendship. It was like a limbo between visiting and dating, where neither party voiced their feelings, but both undoubtedly had them.

"Why not, yeah?" Rin said, looking over at Piko until he returned the glance. "We've been hanging out for a while, and I don't hate you yet, so it could work."

Piko grinned sheepishly. "I was honestly prepared for you to ignore that this was a date," he said. "But since you put it out there, I guess we're dating then."

Rin blushed, somewhat annoyed at his somewhat ambiguous response. "Well, do you like me?"

Piko looked down as he walked. "I like you a lot," he said.

Rin sighed inwardly. "That's something a kid would say," she said. But her face was still warm.

"You started it," Piko pointed out.

"It was a perfectly valid question," Rin insisted. She watched Piko out of the corner of her eye for a moment before sighing audibly. "It's been a long time since I've dated anyone."

"What's your view on dating?" Piko asked. "I mean, since we've agreed on honesty, it feels kinda necessary to make sure we're on the same page for this, right?"

"Yeah, probably," Rin said, considering it. "I always dated for fun, when I was younger. The pleasurable thrill of being interested in someone, or even just fancying that I was interested, it could make life more interesting." She bit her lip briefly. "But I think it should be different, now. Somehow. It's something of a progression, I think. We've come to the first issue, right? We're a—um, we're together, and so we'll take each following step as it comes, I guess." Rin watched Piko to make sure he was getting everything she did—and didn't—say.

Piko nodded slowly. "Yeah." He suddenly seemed to realize how straightforward everything was, and he reached his hand up to rub his cheek somewhat subconsciously. Rin, too, was struck with a sudden shyness, and was comfortable to stay quiet for once.

They walked on in silence, then, pushing the conversation back in their minds and focusing on more current thoughts. When they reached the bridge that crossed over into the neighborhood, Piko stopped and spoke up again.

"Would you mind staying here a little longer?" he asked. Rin had begun walking ahead, assuming Piko just didn't want to cross the bridge next to her, but she stopped and looked at him before answering.

"I mean, if you like staring into the stream, we could," Rin said, unsure of what else to do. "I don't know what you watch in there, but I'll watch it with you," she said.

Piko smiled without looking at Rin. "It's just peaceful. Don't you have something that calms you down whenever you're feeling tired or stressed?"

"I guess I read, most of the time," Rin said, watching Piko brush the snow off the railing. He leaned against it and looked down into the dark water even as Rin stood next to him and watched him curiously, entranced by the change in his tone of voice.

"It's kind of lonely, sometimes, because I watch the water leave and I know I'll never see that same water again. Of course it's all the same, but if you think of it as a thousand individual droplets all waving goodbye as they leave you behind, I dunno, it gets kinda sad." Piko exhaled sharply, as if he were laughing at himself. "But I bet you think that's stupid."

"I—" Rin was about to deny it, because she really didn't, but she realized that at one point in time, she probably would have. Another thought soon came to mind though, an old worry nagging at her conscience. "What were you thinking about, that day when I first ran into you?" It came out too gentle, Rin realized; she sounded…well, soft. She forced herself not to think too hard about it. This was Piko after all.

Piko was quiet for a moment before answering. "I wondered, if I were to wave goodbye, would it be just as indistinguishable as the water droplets? Would I be one in a thousand, left to blend in as part of the inevitable flow of human life?"

Rin was horrified, yet mystified at the same time. "Were you actually going to…"

"Try to take my own life?" Piko gave Rin a sad smile. "No, I wasn't that desperate. I think…I think I'm too…weak to do something like that, anyway."

"Thank goodness for that," Rin said, leaning forward heavily. She tried to push such a thought out of her mind.

"Do you think I'm feminine?" Piko straightened up and looked over at Rin.

Rin was startled by the sudden change in tone. "I've never said that."

"You've thought it."

Rin opened her mouth to reply but averted her eyes instead. "But I still—"

The look on Piko's face as he gave her a sharp glance silenced her instantly. She hadn't realized he had such power over her until he actually used it. Piko took Rin's hand—and even though his eyes held such authority, his hand still felt uncertain—and she stared at him quietly and questioningly.

"The thing is, no matter what people think of me, I can't give up on life. I'm too scared of what I could leave behind," Piko said, bringing Rin with him as he began continuing along the path. It was the most urgent she had ever heard him, but his voice became gentle again with his next statement: "So I know when certain chances come, I have to take them."

When they stopped, Rin knew exactly where she was. She didn't have to follow Piko's gaze to where it rested for a moment, high above their heads, in order to know what would come next, but she did, and her heart hammered within her chest.

Their eyes came back down to meet again, and Rin was about to open her mouth to say something, but—

The mistletoe insisted.

—Piko only took her other hand and pressed his lips gently against hers.


	8. I love you

**Fun fact:** there's a sentence in this chapter with like 5 negatives (would/could/had/etc. ending in "n't"). I didn't change it because the fact that I did that amuses me.

* * *

><p>I LOVE YOU<p>

In the following months, the change in relationship appeared, to any observer, negligible. Perhaps the most obvious difference was the frequency with which they communicated. They texted, sometimes, when it was convenient; Rin acknowledged that there were times when they really were too busy to do anything else. When neither could be bothered to do more than lie in bed or lounge on a couch for a couple of hours, though, Rin called.

"I can't hear you," she would say, if Piko texted her on a Saturday afternoon while both knew very well that the other wasn't busy. It was the truth, and she stood by it. There was nothing sillier to Rin than reading words when you were perfectly capable of hearing them, except perhaps typing words when you were perfectly capable of saying them.

In any case, Rin and Piko both harbored the unspoken desire to spend more time together, but it was fairly inconvenient during the school year, so they contented themselves with the sound of each other's voice until the weekend rolled around, giving them hours to spend together.

Despite the intentions made clear on Christmas Eve, Rin still didn't tell anyone about her new relationship. Even when she visited Len and Miku over the New Year break, she conveniently avoided the topic and escaped solid questioning.

The longer she put it off, though, the more she came to realize it was becoming irrational. Her original hesitation was becoming obsolete, something she clung to more in habit than in spirit. Her fear had been that it wouldn't work out, that perhaps she and Piko weren't meant to be more than friends.

It was working out.

By early spring Rin finally gave in to the idea and invited her family, including Hana, to a dinner at her house. She hadn't told them who they were going to meet, so when her guests arrived and were seated at the table, Rin finally brought Piko into the room and smiled nervously.

"Len, Miku, Hana, this is Piko, my…um, boyfriend?" she said unsurely, giving him a sideways glance. The title didn't seem accurate, but she brushed the thought aside quickly. "Piko, this is my family."

While Len was trying to collect his thoughts, Miku jumped up from her seat and ran to hug Piko, nearly knocking him over in the process.

"Pikoooooo!" she said, stepping back and beaming. "I knew you could do it!" she congratulated him cheerfully.

"Do what?" Piko asked, slightly startled.

Miku grinned as she went to take her seat again. "Get stubborn Rin to say things that embarrass her."

"It doesn't embarrass me!" Rin retorted quickly, taking a seat as well. "Piko is my boyfriend! I have a boyfriend! He's not a boy but you get the point!" she said suddenly, flushing with discomfort.

Piko laughed quietly at her as he sat down, quickly assuming a straight face when she narrowed her eyes at him. He looked over at Hana, who was staring at him with wide eyes, and shrugged shyly.

"So, when did this happen?" Miku asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Christmas Eve," Rin answered, suddenly understanding how Piko felt during conversations. Perhaps the same awkward effect Rin felt from combining two separate sets of friends was simply what Piko felt all the time, for whatever reason.

"Oooh," Miku said, earning a wry glance from Len. "So it's been going well, then?"

"Yeah," Rin said, hating the one-word answer. She almost couldn't stand it. She felt like she was expected to be the fun, talkative sister and aunt for Len, Miku, and Hana, but also the thoughtful, conversational companion for Piko, and since neither felt right for the other party, she couldn't be either. She could only be quiet. Like Piko.

"I don't know much about you, Piko, since Rin is so secretive," Miku said. "So fill me in. What's your story?" And just like that, it was Piko's turn to be put on the spot.

Rin snuck a sideways glance at Piko, a smile growing on her face as the irony continued to dawn on her, and she suddenly felt connected to Piko in a way she had never been before. They were in this together, the shy recipients of enthusiastic conversation. As Piko slowly made his way into a more easily-flowing conversation, Rin could only find herself focusing on Len, who didn't say much, and certainly felt her stare, but never quite looked at her.

By the time the evening was nearly over, Rin had finally found herself again, prompted by a growing comfort with the situation and helped by Hana's innocent delight in the new development.

She was able to see her family off with hugs and laughter, and as she waved goodbye a final time, Len leaned close to whisper in her ear.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

Rin nodded, her hair brushing against Len's nose in the process.

"I'm glad."

As he stepped away, Rin glanced at Hana, who pretended not to be eavesdropping, and then back at Len, just in time to see him give her a soft smile. It was most definitely a Len-smile. Rin couldn't help it as she smiled in return. "Bye," she said, and stepped back inside.

Rin took a moment to breathe in the silence before she turned away from the door. Piko was grabbing his jacket for the walk home when Rin laughed suddenly.

"Oh, Piko," she said, smiling sadly. "You are a brave person." Stepping forward, she gave him an unexpected hug. His eyes widened, but he returned the embrace, keeping his questions to himself.

A couple of weeks later, during a dwindling conversation, Piko appeared to want to say something, so Rin held off on her own thoughts and allowed him time to gather resolve.

"Do you love your brother?" Piko eventually asked.

It wasn't what she had expected, but Rin tilted her head slightly, smiling simply because she knew she could answer honestly. "Yeah," she said.

"And your niece?"

"Of course."

"And Miku."

"Mhm. Why?" Rin almost laughed at Piko, wondering what he was getting at.

"Do you love me?"

Put on the spot, Rin's smile disappeared quickly and she hesitated. "That's completely different," she said, her confidence fading fast.

"Is it?" Piko mused, watching Rin as her shoulders sagged and she she bit her lip.

"Well I don't know how to explain it," she said. "I mean, I do love—"

Piko let his gaze drop. "I guess it might be too soon."

"No, I just—"

"No, I understand," he said, looking back at Rin. He didn't look hurt, so Rin was able to trust his words. "It's fine. I don't know if I should say it yet either."

Rin tried to push the unease away after that, but even though Piko was just as unsure as she was, she couldn't help but feel like he was disappointed, and she felt like she should have been disappointed too, but she wondered—if she hadn't expected him to say such a thing so explicitly anyway, wouldn't it be reasonable that she wasn't disappointed that he didn't? She tried to brush the thought away, contenting herself with the knowledge that she and Piko were no less compatible for it.

Indeed, as the days grew warmer, so did their affections. Rin was far from being a physical person, but she didn't want Piko to feel like she was pushing him away, so she made an effort to acquire a good sense for when physical affection might be appropriate, and thus became a bit more appreciative of such things.

Because of Rin's job, they could still only afford to spend time together on weekends and the occasional light-workload days, but they spent practically every free moment together, with one exception: night.

It was something they discussed, one day in early May, not at all eager to make a bad decision.

"Do you think…should we move in together?" Rin had finally asked Piko, her eyes flickering up to read his expression. "I don't even know how I feel about it, but some people do that kind of thing, and I wasn't sure if—"

"I thought about it, too," Piko admitted, letting his gaze drift up rather than meeting Rin's stare.

"We've been spending time together for…what, eight months now? And dating for four of those, just about?" Rin added.

Piko sighed. "Maybe you'll think this is a weird answer, but I don't think we should."

Rin pushed away the sudden relief she didn't understand and tried to reason out the best decision in her mind. "It does seem like a premature thing to me too, though I don't have any particular reasons why, it just feels that way," she said, thinking as she spoke.

"If we got married, we'd live together, and…it would seem like spoiling it, if we did that earlier," Piko said carefully. "And if…if we didn't get married, I think we would have done more damage than good."

Rin swallowed her surprise. It was the first time either of them had mentioned that prospect, but she tried to take it with the same cool that Piko had assumed when conveying it.

"That sounds right," she said. It was becoming a favorite phrase of hers, when it came to Piko and his ideas. "So we'll just stick with what we have now. That works for me."

"Do you love me?" Piko asked then, bringing Rin's thoughts to a reeling halt. There it was again. Almost a month later, and Rin was still unprepared.

She just froze, her mouth slightly open, before she closed her eyes tightly, knowing she shouldn't have hesitated. For the second time. "I—" she opened her eyes—they were almost pleading—and looked at Piko. "I'm sorry, yes. I do, I promise."

He smiled a little. "I've decided I can say it, for real." He paused, his face suddenly acquiring a red tint. "I love you," he said, meeting Rin's eyes only for a second before looking away again.

Rin felt the heat in her own face. "Um," she knew she was supposed to say it back; why was it so hard? "I love you too." It was too reluctant. Rin shook her head, following Piko's example and averting her gaze.

She heard Piko exhale quietly, and turned to see that he was looking at her again. "We'll get there, yeah?"

It was a small promise to make, and Rin desperately wanted to hold true to it, so she nodded her head then, at that time. And the closer they drew to the end of the school year, the more Rin practiced it in her head.

Like when they took time to watch some TV, and Rin lay sprawled lazily across most of the couch while Piko sat at the end, and she found herself tilting her head back a bit to watch Piko rather than the show. _I love you_, her thoughts would say, but it never really crossed her mind to say it out loud.

Or when they walked, whether towards a destination or just as an excuse to do something together, and Piko laughed at something Rin said, and she looked over at him to see his smile. _I love you_, her heart would say, but she couldn't voice it.

Even when Len took it upon himself to invite them to his own house after school was out, and Rin realized that Piko was doing his best to become comfortable with her own family, and she watched happily as they responded with like intentions. _I love you_, her soul would say, but she couldn't easily admit it.

Yet even still, every time Piko said it out loud to her, Rin hesitated. Every time. It was nothing wrong with Piko. He didn't say it excessively, and it wasn't just to say it when he did, but Rin was simply taken off guard every time, and every time waited just a bit too long to sound genuine. It made her wonder, every so often, what was wrong with her.

But love wasn't the only thing Rin was experiencing as she grew closer to Piko. She began to experience change, beyond that of emotions. It was almost a process of forgetting, as time added more hours to the collection already begun of those spent with Piko.

She began to forget a time when she hadn't been used to staring into differently colored eyes on the same person. She began to forget a time when Piko's house wasn't as familiar as her own. She began to forget what it was like to eat at a restaurant alone, or what it was like to be frustrated at Piko, what it was like to feel useless.

She forgot a time when silence bothered her.

She forgot a time when saying sorry hurt her.

She forgot a time when marriage scared her.

But she never forgot how to feel sad, and lonely, and angry. She didn't forget her personal weaknesses, and she didn't forget the part of herself that remained unchanged by Piko.

Because no matter how much of herself she gave away to him, Rin remained Rin. No matter how much of her heart Rin wished to share, it still carried along with it the faults that plagued her and the weights that dragged her down. It still generated emotions that she didn't always understand, and thoughts she didn't always like; yet, in sharing this, Rin found that it was much easier to carry.

"Hey, Piko, how old am I?" she asked one day, settling on Piko's couch after entering his house.

He looked at her curiously from the table where he sat with his laptop. "Any particular reason you ask?"

"Not eager to answer such a thing to a woman, are you?" She raised her eyebrows before shaking her head and reclining on the length of the couch, cupping her hands behind her head. After silence prodded Rin to continue, she sighed. "What are we waiting for, exactly?"

"In general, or…"

Rin stared at the ceiling. "Before the next step. Before we get married," she said, knowing such a topic was no longer taboo.

"Well…"

Rin could hear his voice get quiet. She tilted her head a little so that she could see him. He was staring at his lap, his computer screen now shut.

"Do you love me?" he asked.

Rin sat up suddenly, looking like she had just been betrayed, struggling to find her words. "You know that's—"

Piko turned to her, hiding amusement for her sake. "That."

Rin leaned back against the cushions, visibly deflated. "That's not fair. I just can't…"

"What's your greatest fear?" Piko asked, seeming to move on, though Rin suspected it was another test.

Still, she knew her answer well. "Dying alone, with nobody left."

Piko seemed to recognize something in her answer, something that caused him to cross the room and sit next to Rin.

"I don't want to get married out of fear," he said, and Rin understood the implication. He seemed to hesitate, and then held out his hand. Rin looked over at it and closed her eyes before she took his hand, feeling warmth beyond the physical touch. "Perhaps fear is one of mankind's greatest motivators," he mused, "but if it never results in a change, it becomes one of the greatest hindrances."

"Marriage would be change," Rin replied, but Piko shook his head.

"Not a real change." He looked at Rin and poked her lightly with his free hand, closer to her collarbone than her heart. "There's something deeper than that, something only signified by marriage."

Rin finally understood. She was still holding back. There was still more to promise, more to give, and she was holding it back. Maybe Piko wasn't, and was just waiting for her. But she would get there, and so she gathered up all her warm feelings towards Piko and used them to push away the pride before slowly leaning her head to rest on his shoulder.

_Yes_, she practiced in her thoughts. _I love you._

* * *

><p><strong>Juuuust in case anybody thought this was sudden<strong>, remember that about 6 months pass during this chapter, though I can't detail them all because that's just not how I like to write these things. Hopefully I did a good enough job developing their feelings to make it believable, because if there's anything I hate it's stories with shallow love. Feel like this is the case? Please review and tell me why, so I can work on it :)


	9. Don't Cry For Me

**Early upload** because long story short my weekend is about to get crazy and this will be one less thing I have to deal with so I'm getting it out of the way now. Enjoy some side-character love and actual plot that isn't made up of conversation!

* * *

><p>DON'T CRY FOR ME<p>

Just before the school year began anew, Rin set about making sure all of her material was in order, reviewing the content and making small changes to the lesson plan where she felt it was necessary. The only thing left to do before the year kicked off was attend the teacher's meeting.

Rin felt a pang of regret as she got in her car. The summer had been so enjoyable; it almost seemed painful to think about returning to such a limited schedule. She thought of the last school year, the Sundays spent with Piko. Now the thought of only seeing him once a week seemed absurd, but she hoped her work wouldn't suffer because she was distracted.

The meeting was, as usual, boring. Rin greeted her colleagues once again, and stood by as others greeted each other. She couldn't help but notice that all women's voices got notably higher when they greeted someone they hadn't seen in a while. Rin had noticed this about younger girls, but apparently adults did it too. It made her want to laugh, but she didn't, of course. She only made it a point to greet everyone in an overly normal tone. Why should she be obliged to provide anything but blatant honesty? It was worth the put-off stares.

It lasted a couple of hours, with administration droning on and on about things that were really unnecessary, but Rin was used to it, having listened to the same information year after year. Upon leaving the building afterwards, she was greeted by a breath of warm air and she squinted in the relative darkness after coming from a well-lit room.

She sighed, her mind hazy from the lack of activity, and she got into her car with little else on her mind other than arriving home as soon as possible.

Rin slid down a little in the driver's seat. She had driven to the meeting just to save time, but she was regretting the decision as she drove home now, in the dark. All she wanted to do was zone out and rest her eyes, but she couldn't do that while driving.

She pictured her neighborhood in her head, a quiet street lit by tall lamps that shone through the trees. By contrast, the harsh lights in the city were giving her a headache, and she just wanted to be home in bed.

She saw the crossing into the quieter part of town up ahead, and sighed in relief. She had less than a ten minute drive to go. She pulled up to the intersection; it was her turn to go, and she went.

And so did the other car.

* * *

><p>"Hello?" Piko answered the phone almost cautiously, not recognizing the number. After hearing what the caller had to say, Piko tensed and hung up the phone. "Please," he said inaudibly, looking up briefly before running out the door.<p>

* * *

><p>Hana was brushing her teeth when she heard the phone ring. She wandered near the bathroom door, habitually eavesdropping on whatever conversation was about to occur. Her dad picked up the phone to answer.<p>

"Hello?" he said. After a few moments, Hana heard him inhale through his teeth. "Is she alright?" he asked, noticeably shaken. More silence. "I'll be there as soon as possible."

"What's wrong?" Hana heard her mom's concerned voice.

"Rin's in the hospital. We need to go."

"Rin?" Hana mouthed it just as her mother said it, just as surprised. She quickly spit out the toothpaste and threw her toothbrush in the sink before rushing to the edge of the balcony that overlooked the living room downstairs.

"What about Aunt Rin?" she asked, her eyes wide.

Her dad hesitated. "She was in a car accident. It sounds like it's not fatal, but I still need to go see if she's okay," he said.

"I want to go too," Hana insisted.

"Get your shoes on, then, quickly."

She didn't have to be told twice. She rushed into her room, slipped on her shoes, and pulled her hair up in seconds. Once downstairs, she followed her parents outside and into the car.

They drove into town in silence, no one daring to speak a word. Hana felt her stomach twisting, and she wasn't quite sure what caused it, but part of it could have been the fact that they were trapped inside the same object that had just sent Aunt Rin to the hospital. It scared her, and she had only ever seen her parents so serious once before, when her grandfather died a couple of years ago.

But she had been assured that Rin was just fine, and so she watched the landscape fly by and tried to think about something else.

When they arrived at the hospital, they met an attendant who told them Rin had passed out and only just woken up a half-hour ago. "If you'll wait over there," they were told, "You can go see her soon." So they sat down in the waiting room, each busy with his and her own thoughts.

A couple of minutes later, the door opened and another man walked in. All three Kagamines looked up; but none felt cheerful enough to offer a greeting as Piko took his seat across the room and stared at his lap.

It seemed like a thousand years before the door into the back rooms finally opened.

Piko sat up straight when he saw the nurse walk through the door. She called them back, and he fell into line behind the others. "You're free to visit with her, but don't tell her anything shocking. She's lost quite a bit of blood," the nurse warned them. When they arrived at Rin's room, Piko was prepared for the worst, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the condition she was in.

She had bandages on her face and arms, and looked slightly dazed, but she was okay. Piko glanced over and met Len's eyes briefly; it wasn't hard to tell what Rin's brother was trying to communicate. Piko gave a small nod and looked back at the ground while Len went to meet Rin first.

Rin, who had been trying to take in who she was seeing, focused on Len for a moment as he walked towards her. She scrunched up her face for a moment before the first tears slipped out. Len quickly leaned down and brought Rin into an embrace, and she allowed herself to be held tightly as she began to sob quietly into Len's shoulder.

For thirty seconds, Piko watched numbly, and it wasn't until hot tears slipped down his cheeks that he realized _he_ was crying. He noticed Miku's sideways glance and brushed the tears away quickly, staring down into his lap ashamed.

"I'm sorry," Rin was trying to say, choking on her own words. "I'm okay…I didn't see—"

Len only pulled her closer, silencing her gently, and Piko got up quietly. Still looking at the ground, he left the little room and walked outside into the hallway. He leaned against the wall, put his head in his hands, and let the tears fall. He didn't care who saw him, as long as it wasn't them.

Not even a minute later, he heard the door open and close.

"Are you okay, Piko?"

It was a soft voice, soft enough to draw Piko's eyes over to the speaker. He nodded weakly.

"Why are you crying?" Miku asked.

"I don't know," Piko said helplessly. "I shouldn't be."

"No," Miku said. "But you are." The way she looked at him, searching his eyes, Piko felt like she could already read his mind.

"It's just because she is." That was all Piko managed to say, but it was true.

"I see," Miku said, and then she fell silent.

Piko knew Rin wasn't crying because she was in pain. Even if she was in pain, she wouldn't show it. She wasn't sad, because she always seemed to cover that up with an overly brash persona. No, it seemed clear enough that Rin was simply scared—scared enough to cry—and that, in turn, scared Piko. It shook him to the core that someone who stayed so strong and so clear-headed had just broken down in tears. He felt like all the life had left him in the span of half an hour.

"Do you want to go back inside?" Miku asked after a couple of minutes.

Piko wanted to say yes, because he wanted to see Rin, but the way he felt at the moment, he almost couldn't bear to face her. It was almost humiliating, how weak Piko felt. He was supposed to be the stronger one, the one to give her a shoulder to cry on, but instead, it was her brother, because her other option was too much of a girl to keep a straight face while she broke down. So instead, Piko shook his head.

"I should probably just go," he said, and pushed away from the wall to walk down the hall.

Miku reached out and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back abruptly. He turned to face her, surprised when he saw that her eyes were urgent.

"Don't you know Rin? Don't leave her now, even if you can't support her. All you have to do is stay with her, and that would mean the world to her, even if she won't say it. But if you leave, she'll begin to doubt you," Miku said, quite seriously.

"Fine. She should," Piko said, not willing to look Miku in the eyes. He turned to walk away once again.

"Do you love her?"

Piko stopped in his tracks, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. He knew the answer to this question, but he never expected to have to answer to anybody besides Rin. He looked back at Miku, who had folded her hands and was watching him with an unreadable expression.

"Yes."

Miku reached over and grabbed the door handle, lifting her chin. Piko wiped his eyes one last time and went towards the door, which Miku opened for him before following him back inside.

Once inside, Piko hung back near the door while Miku rejoined her family. Rin had regained her composure and seemed to be telling Len what happened. She briefly lifted her eyes when Miku came near, but her eyes went to Miku and Miku only. Piko's heart sank.

"They didn't have their headlights on either," Rin said. "I didn't mean to…I could've killed someone…"

"It's fine, Rin, it could happen to anyone," Len said.

"What happened?" Miku asked softly. Piko realized for the first time what Miku genuinely looked like, beneath the smile and the laugh.

"She collided with a car in the intersection. Thankfully, she only hit the back of the other car, so the other driver wasn't hurt too much," Len explained. "The glass shattered though, and she passed out at some point either from shock or blood loss before she could call anyone."

Rin had finally acknowledged Piko's presence while Len told Miku what had happened. Piko felt pinned to the wall by her gaze—it was unlike any she had given him before—but he didn't dare look away.

"Do you have to stay here overnight?" Piko asked after Len had finished, drawing the attention of the others. It was louder than he had intended to be, and he cringed inwardly.

Rin nodded. "They say I lost a lot of blood. So I have to stay here at least overnight."

The nurse opened the door and peeked inside. "Can I discuss matters with Rin alone for a moment?" she asked, opening the door all the way and standing to the side. The visitors filed out of the room and resumed silence once the door shut.

"Miss Kagamine, you can have one visitor stay overnight with you, if you want. In the end it's your decision, so who would you like to have with you?" the nurse asked. Rin lifted her head and looked towards the door.

She thought for a moment, biting her lip, and then answered.

The door opened out into the hall and Piko looked around to see the nurse come out of the little room several minutes later, having allowed Rin to calm down some on her own. "I assume you are all close to the patient," she began. "Hospital policy allows for one visitor to stay overnight with her, and she's already given me her choice. Would you like to leave it at her decision or discuss amongst yourselves who the best choice is?"

"Her decision," Len said, while Piko nodded in agreement as he turned to leave.

"She has requested Piko."

Piko turned back sharply. He felt Len's gaze resting on him, but Piko didn't have the will to meet his eyes. "That's me," he said to the nurse.

She held the door open again for the visitors. Len, Miku, and Hana walked inside to say goodbye to Rin for the night. "We'll be back tomorrow, okay?" Len said.

"You'll be better in no time, Rin," Miku said sweetly, giving her two thumbs up. Hana stared at her mom for a moment before staring at her aunt. Rin smiled and gave a small wave. The teenage girl smiled back and gave two thumbs up, and Rin swallowed as images of Miku from almost 30 years previously came to mind.

The three left along with the nurse, and Piko was left alone with Rin. The room was artificially lit by a single lamp, the only remaining light. It was nearly midnight.

"So…are you okay?" Piko asked.

"Yeah," Rin said, significantly more collected as she lifted her hand where an IV was attached. "They have to hook me up to all this stuff, but I think I'll be fine. I'm not paralyzed, or mutilated, or anything like that."

Piko held his arm and looked at the ground uneasily. "That's not exactly what I meant," he said.

Rin tilted her head. "You remind me a lot of Len sometimes."

Piko looked up abruptly. "That's really weird," he said, grimacing, though secretly he was pleased. If there was anyone with the right personality to remind Rin of, it was her brother.

Rin laughed. "No, you're both such worriers." She softened her tone. "But Piko, why were you looking at me like that?" Piko saw the weakness flash through her eyes again, and then it was gone.

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like…" she hesitated, searching for the right words. "Like you were watching a burial."

Piko couldn't answer. He just didn't have the words. It wasn't until he saw the hurt in Rin's eyes that he realized just how much anxiety she felt, and he longed to be able to comfort her in some way.

When Piko didn't say anything, Rin shook her head at herself and took a breath. "It's not your fault," she said, acknowledging his guilt. "I was scared, and so were you and the others, and I don't blame you guys, because I almost…" Rin stopped herself there. "But you don't have to cry for me," she added softly, with a smile in her eyes.

Piko's face heated up under her gaze. "You probably ought to get some rest now," he said, averting his eyes. Rin, who had been sitting up in the bed, slid down a little. Piko hesitated for a moment, waiting for her to object, but she didn't, so he walked over to the lamp and switched it off, standing still as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

His eyes flickered down to her face, and he blinked in surprise when he realized she was watching him. "Goodnight," she said, her eyes reflecting an unperceptible light.

Piko opened his mouth slightly to reply, but closed it instead as he leaned down and kissed Rin's cheek. She closed her eyes at the touch, and Piko stood up to leave her bedside, his heart in his throat. He looked one more time at her resting figure before going over to the small couch-bed to sleep.

He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes open wide with the strain of a thousand thoughts, but soon the exhaustion of his heart overwhelmed the worry of his mind, and he drifted off to sleep, his presence and Rin's offering mutual comfort unseen.


	10. To Share Her Soul

TO SHARE HER SOUL

Rin was released from the hospital and recovered quickly, but Piko's mind was never at ease. All he could think about was the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach when he had received that call.

He had begun staying with Rin more often, not trusting her alone with her injuries, and in such a way they soon set aside their previous hesitations—Piko out of sincere concern, Rin out of quiet understanding—and began sleeping under the same roof.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Piko asked hesitantly, before Rin's first night back at home.

Rin was about to nod, but she stopped herself. "I would think so," she said, pretending to be sure. "But the doctor did seem to think that I shouldn't be by myself for too long."

"Oh." Piko said. He hadn't expected Rin to say anything other than yes. "I could…stay here," he offered slowly. "I mean I don't mind sleeping on the couch, but also if you don't even want me to that's—"

"Maybe it would be a good idea," Rin said, still trying to sound casual. "Until I recover completely, you know?"

At first, safety was easily the main concern. Yet the more Rin recovered, the more both of them realized they didn't want to be alone again. Piko knew it was dangerous, even as he slept on the couch, but he sensed that something had changed—and even still, he hadn't completely moved in; he always made sure to make a trip to his own home at some point every day before bedtime, either to take a shower or to spend time alone in order to remind himself: _not yet_.

Piko couldn't say for sure what Rin thought about whenever she was about to fall asleep, but sleeping in her house, Piko found his thoughts almost inevitably drawn to her. He often thought about meeting Rin—the second time—and spending time with her over the months. He thought about everything they had done together, the arguments and apologies, conversations and ideas and laughter and sadness, what all of it meant, and most frighteningly, he thought about what Rin wanted.

And in the first few days of living with her, what Rin wanted was still unclear in Piko's mind. To him, who considered her existence precious beyond measure, it was a painful place to be. Her happiness made itself known more often than not, and yet that was part of the problem: had she realized, Piko wondered, that he was incapable of being any sort of comfort in a time of sadness and fear, and was now hiding those emotions because of him? And then, of course, the following thought: did she even still want to be with him, or was she just biding her time until they fell apart?

But still, he sensed that something had changed, and so he waited for her to say something, and he waited for her to decide how she felt.

It was no surprise, of course, that in the days following her injury, Rin found herself overwhelmed with feelings of all sorts—in the midst of her troubled thoughts, her only comfort was the continued presence of Piko. She desperately wished to speak of that which bothered her heart, but she remained quiet, lest she express something she didn't understand or admit something she feared greatly.

For it had been in that hospital room, on that day, that Piko displayed the first sign of abandonment that Rin had ever seen of him, and it terrified her. Her relief upon his return was anything but solid, and she had tried to show her appreciation of him through the invitation to stay with her through the night at the hospital and now the subsequent nights in her own home. He showed no sign of deserting her now, so she was inclined to share her burdens with him, but perhaps he didn't want her burdens anymore? She wondered: was he tired of her doubt and cynism, only wanting her open affection? And then, of course, the following thought: did he even still want to be with her, or was he just biding his time until they fell apart?

And all throughout her worry, fear of what could have been echoed through her mind, taking hold of her dreams and twisting her thoughts. She knew she hadn't been close to death, but in one instant, her entire existence had been trusted to the size of the vehicle that hit her, and though she had been spared, her imagination would not let go of an alternate fate. Because of this, Rin began to consciously realize all of her strongest desires, brought to light in the panic of her heart.

In an effort to display her seriousness to Piko, she resolved to bring them—her desires—into conversations with him, but it was never an easy task.

"So we're still together, huh?" Rin had remarked offhandedly one evening after Piko had returned from his daily departure. They were sitting on Rin's couch, mainly because of Rin herself, since she knew that was the best way to put off either of them going to bed.

"Apparently so," Piko said, matching her tone, but wondering at the comment.

"I guess I'm just waiting for…" Rin stopped, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, contemplating something beyond Piko's reach. "I have a question," she suddenly said, changing her mind.

"Yeah?"

"I just wondered…I wanted to ask what you thought about…about having kids? In general?" Rin bit her tongue; the words were out.

It was certainly not what Piko had been expecting at all. He tried to recover himself quickly, but found himself thrown off guard by a mixture of unexplained relief and the panic of answering such a question. "I actually never thought about it," he said at last, feeling intrigued by the idea.

"I think, for a while now, I've really wanted to have at least one…really really wanted to," she said quietly, losing her nonchalant front. She shook her head, second-guessing herself. "But that's skipping steps, isn't it? I shouldn't have asked something like that," she said.

"It's okay, really," Piko said. "We'll get there, remember? That goes for this too." For Rin, the sudden comfort of these words couldn't be expressed; her question, as well, reassured Piko more than he could understand, and hope grew in his heart. She had turned to look at him, as if to make sure he wasn't lying, before she nodded earnestly, her eyes flickering down and then back up.

In such a way, Rin began to feel her confidence returning to the relationship, and her recovery become one of body and mind. Any doubt she had briefly had when Piko left her hospital room became a faint memory, but she still felt a strongly renewed desire to be as likeable around Piko as she could, and she was determined to be so without putting forth anything less than genuine. She did all of this to hold onto him for as long as she could, hoping he would never disappear, hoping that her survival wasn't in vain. Throughout all her desire to remain with Piko, though, she never completely adjusted to the idea of being a couple.

"Do you ever think this is kind of funny?" Rin asked on the first Saturday, coming out of her bedroom in the morning to find Piko working at his laptop.

"What is?" Piko asked, looking over at Rin.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Us. It seems normal, but not, at the same time." She motioned at his laptop. "You working at my house, like you belong here and stuff."

"Well, do you feel well enough to stay on your own now? I could leave, if it's too weird," he said, thinking that Rin was actually uncomfortable.

Rin quickly shook her head before stopping abruptly, realizing what she had done. "I, uh, it's not too weird," she said, ignoring the first question. "You know what, maybe you should just keep working and I'll go over here and eat some breakfast," Rin said, awkwardly wandering over to the kitchen.

Piko stared after her for a moment. He shook his head at Rin, secretly enjoying the way she seemed to embarrass her own self, even though he never could see a reason for her to feel embarrassed.

For all the normality of Rin's behavior, though, Piko couldn't be completely at ease, even long after she had proven herself to be sincerely involved in a longterm relationship. He still found himself lying awake at night; the same fear-induced image of Rin's crumpled body in a car wreck plagued his mind day and night. "Fear is one of the greatest motivators," he had said to her, and he was finding it to be true on several different levels. It began to catch up to him, to a point where he couldn't hide it during the day; it wouldn't go away, no matter how much Rin seemed to care. In fact, Rin's care only spurred Piko into further reticence, for he was reluctant to bring up the weakness of his heart after she had placed so much trust in such a heart.

Rin soon brought up her concerns when she noticed, about two weeks after coming home from the hospital. "Have you been sleeping well lately?" she asked him, as they stared into the river for no particular reason other than to stand next to each other.

"Well enough," Piko said, hating the lie as he said it.

"Are you sick?" Rin knew he wasn't.

"I don't think so," Piko said quietly.

"Well, something is wrong," Rin said. "I know that. It's not easy to lie to me, you know?"

"I know."

"So, let me help you fix it," Rin said, softening her tone and pleading with her eyes.

Piko looked over at Rin, wishing desperately that he could do just that. But in that moment, he remembered that something had changed, and that perhaps it was different—perhaps it was time.

He had to ask, even though he didn't want to hear it again. He didn't want to hear the awful silence when she hesitated, and he didn't want to hear the unsurety in her voice. But if it was different...

And so he had to ask, then and there.

"Do you love me?"

The normality of such a question struck Piko as the words left his mouth—he and Rin were really the only ones who had a problem with such an inquiry, weren't they? For any other couple, the answer should be instinctive. And yet for some reason, a pause was normal; so normal, in fact, that the lack of one startled him.

"Yes," Rin had said.

Her adrenaline was racing, seeing Piko's expression of dawning recongnition, and she continued with a hint of breathlessness. "I love you." She closed her eyes and hugged Piko tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I love you too," Piko said, pressing his cheek to her hair and finally breathing in relief.

Rin was trying to repress inexplicable tears with a smile as he said it. She had finally done it, and he could finally believe her. Something so small, and yet it held all the meaning in the world, to them—a couple who, beyond reason, found the most difficult of obstacles in the simplest of exchanges.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Rin whispered, trying to make up for lost time, wishing she could have said it sooner.

After a moment, Piko looked up, wanting to flee the scene in order to sort his thoughts out by himself, but remaining rooted in the moment. "Are you afraid?" he asked, speaking over Rin's head to the distant landscape.

Rin turned her head, but didn't pull away. "Of what?" she asked.

"In general. Of anything."

"Of course," she said, laughing a little. "Are you?"

"Yeah." Piko searched his thoughts for the right words to express his feelings. "Since the accident…I feel different," he finally said. Not the most eloquent, but Rin understood.

"Me too," she said, nodding. "Everything seems more…real, I guess."

"Are we more real, too?" Piko wondered aloud.

"I…" she seemed at a loss for words. "We were always real, weren't we?"

"Yeah."

"But reality doesn't always stay the same."

"Definitely not."

"So we're not more real," Rin mused. "We're a new real."

"A new real," Piko repeated, and Rin nodded, stepping back.

She laughed a little. "Is that what you've been worried about? If we were still 'real'?"

"You've been worried about it too," Piko said, revealing his own observations with a small smile, much to Rin's embarrassment. "But not anymore, I guess."

"So then, what now?" Rin asked, looking expectant. "I feel like we haven't been completely honest, since the accident." She looked down.

"What now?" Piko repeated once more to himself. He looked at Rin. "You still love me," he said. Rin nodded confirmation. "I still love you."

Rin considered something for a moment. "Do you still…I mean, like, get nervous? Or at least something like that around me?" She winced as if she could hardly stand to say the words. "Do guys get butterflies, like that?" Seeing the look of understanding on Piko's face, she blinked and continued. "I guess I'm just saying, I feel like maybe that's what changed. I'm not nervous around you anymore, which makes it feel less genuine, but the opposite is probably true," she said.

"That sounds right," Piko said with a straight face, until Rin recognized the phrase and shot him a fake glare. He laughed at that. "I'm serious, though," he tried to convince her. "Will you wait a bit?" he asked, feeling resolve beginning to form within himself.

"For what?" Rin asked. She seemed genuinely curious, but Piko was hesitant to answer.

"Just wait," he repeated. Rin nodded then, a small gesture of faith.

Later that week, while Rin headed off to ride the bus to work, Piko took his car as soon as he could. It was now or never, he believed. He knew where he was going, just barely, and wanted to get this over with. There was one thing remaining, in his mind, that kept him from feeling free to act on his wish. It wasn't a necessary thing, perhaps, but it was important to him.

Piko felt weird, pulling up at the Kagamine house alone. Nervous, but spurred on by Rin's words, Piko went up to the door and knocked.

Len opened the door, and Piko asked to come inside. Without even mentioning Rin's absence, Len obliged and led Piko into the sitting room before offering him a seat.

Piko quickly realized that it was the first time he would speak to Len alone. The thought intrigued him, since Rin had compared them, but it still didn't fail to unnerve him as well. As he considered his words, Len spoke up first.

"I'm assuming you didn't come just to chat," he said, and Piko couldn't hide a sheepish smile.

"Chatting isn't my thing," Piko said.

"Could've fooled me," Len mused. Piko wasn't sure whether he was joking or not, but the ambiguity of the inflection suddenly reminded him of Rin, and he told himself to keep going.

"But I don't know if I'll be able to say what I want to say right away," Piko said, adding on to his first statement.

"Have you ever tried just speaking the first thing that comes to mind?"

Piko shook his head. "Rin's good at it, though."

Len smiled. "She was the more direct one. I can't do it, either," he admitted. "So I understand."

"Okay." Piko took a deep breath, but he didn't begin immediately. Instead, he appeared to be thinking.

"Rin is…" he considered his words carefully, but soon gave up and went straight to the point. "I love her." That was a start, albeit too bold for his taste. He quickly looked over at Len to gauge his reaction.

"I know," Len replied simply, leaning back, just like Rin did when she suddenly understood something. Piko wondered if it was the same trait.

"I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt her," he said. "I can't be anything but sincere around her, since she would see straight through it if I wasn't." Len said nothing while Piko tried to figure out what he wanted to say next, and Piko realized he couldn't stall much longer, so he bowed his head and gathered his courage instead.

"I want to marry her."

Piko looked back at Len to see an unreadable expression, one that Piko almost suspected of being surprised. They simply stared at each other for a moment, before Len swallowed and looked away. "Why are you telling me, then?"

"I…it's sort of old-fashioned…but I wanted to ask for her hand, and since your father has already passed away—my condolences—I felt I should ask you," Piko said.

"You want me to give her away, then?"

Piko understood what was beginning to dawn on Len, and he instinctively felt sorry for him. He shook his head, even though Len still hadn't lifted his gaze, but he didn't know what to say, since it was true: he was asking for Len to give away his sister. "She still cares about you a lot," he eventually said.

Len finally looked at Piko again. "Go ask her to marry you, Piko." Len smiled weakly. "I don't think Rin has ever been mine to give, but I support you." He managed to laugh a little. "If there's anyone I'll trust her feelings with, it's you."

"Oh…thanks," Piko said. He wasn't sure what else to say.

"When do you plan to ask her?" Len asked.

"Tonight."

Len nodded to himself a couple of times, glancing absentmindedly around the room. "I wish you the best," he said quietly, not quite looking at Piko, but rather somewhere just beyond him.

"Right," Piko searched his mind for anything else he needed to say. Finding nothing, he stood. "I guess I should be going then."

Len walked him to the door, opening and closing it gently after Piko left. There were no more words between them, but by then each was too lost in his own thoughts to care. Len walked back through the living room where they had been sitting, all the way to the first corner that turned into the kitchen. It was there that he saw Miku hiding, as he had guessed.

She had her hands balled up and pressed against her cheeks, no doubt trying to keep herself from crying. Seeing Len, she brought her hands down and pressed them together instead, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Little Rin is going to get married," she said in a small voice.

"Of all people to get emotional about such a thing," Len said unsurely, but the reality was quickly weighing down on him as well, and he squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his wife. They stood there like that, feeling all the emotions that were sure to fall upon their sister soon enough.

"She's finally going to be happy, Len!" Miku said suddenly into Len's shoulder. "She's finally found her happiness."

Len stepped back and put a hand to the back of his neck, unsure about the idea. "Isn't it a bit cliché for her happiness to be a guy?" he asked. "Not everyone's happy ending has to be like that."

Miku shook her head. "Don't you see, Len?" she said, offering a weak laugh. "It's not because of anything he did for her! It's just because…" she searched for the right words—

"…Because Rin wants to share her soul."

Len's hand fell to his side.

"To share her soul," he repeated.

* * *

><p><strong>Special thanks<strong> to snailing-along for helping me make this chapter the best it can be!


	11. Dance With Me

**It is with great sadness and happiness that I present to you the final installation of the main body of _The Way Life Goes_**_** On:**_

* * *

><p>DANCE WITH ME<p>

Rin arrived home to find Piko making dinner, which was a pleasant surprise, but she didn't show it as she set her bag down on a table and went to join him in the kitchen.

She leaned up against the counter next to him and looked at what he was making, and Piko looked over before quickly staring back down at the food.

"I'm making dinner," he said.

Rin laughed quietly. "I can see that," she said. "Any reason in particular?"

Piko shook his head quickly. "I wanted you to be able to take a day off without having to order cheap food somewhere."

Rin wanted to help, but she knew better than to say it. Instead, she stayed in the kitchen to keep Piko company, since she figured it was the least she could do in return for him doing her a favor.

Unbeknownst to her, however, was Piko's quickly increasing nervousness. He had a plan, of course, and there was really no way it could turn out badly, but there was still the glaring fact that his plan revolved around proposing, and proposing was an inherently nervous task. To have Rin's unsuspecting presence watching his every move was really more pressuring than comforting.

He was almost done, though, and they were able to sit down and eat shortly. Dinner was perhaps Piko's favorite time of the day, simply because it carried on the memories of their very first meetings. Dinner was comfortable, and it was familiar. It was almost the embodiment of their relationship: simple, sincere, and honest. Yet Piko couldn't be honest today.

"The kids gave me a card today," Rin had chatted happily. "It was like a get-well-soon but more like we-hope-you're-okay, since I'm technically already well, I guess."

"Did they ask about your bandage?" Piko asked.

Rin touched the bandage on the side of her face absentmindedly. "You know, I feel like people are nicer automatically because I have this. Maybe it's like a subconscious response to injured people." She shrugged. "I'm not complaining. But no, they didn't really say anything about it. Just kinda stared."

"I know how that feels," Piko mused good-naturedly. Rin felt a little bad for a moment, but she brushed it away, knowing Piko didn't mind his appearance. "How long do you have to wear one, again?" he asked.

"Until the skin closes up, I think? But maybe longer, if it'll get more people to offer favors for me." She grinned. "But how was your day?"

Piko blanked for a moment. "Nothing interesting," he said. "I just worked." It wasn't to hide anything terrible, but it was a lie nonetheless, and the mere task made him nervous all over again. So rather than continue, he skirted around the topic when he could and stayed silent when he couldn't.

Piko caught Rin trying to read him a couple of times after that, having learned the gaze that accompanied her analysis. But in the same way, she caught him trying to avoid being read, having learned the immediate break of eye contact that followed. It was with a bit of guilt that she decided to cut Piko some slack and let it go for the time being. If anything, he was acting more indecisive than suspect, so she tried to put it out of her mind lest she worry herself over nothing.

Still, she desperately wanted to know why Piko seemed ill at ease, because while it wasn't anything new, it certainly wasn't a characteristic she had seen in him recently. She finally came to the conclusion that he was figuring out something for himself and it had nothing to do with her, and she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

However, when he suggested a movie after dinner, it only further surprised Rin. Neither of them necessarily liked movies—she liked to read, and he liked to be on his computer. If they ever did want to sit in front of the television for the sake of being together, they watched TV rather than a movie. But a movie was what Piko suggested, and that was what Rin agreed to.

They sat side by side, but it wasn't excessively date-like, much to Rin's relief. It was simply a matter of sitting shoulder to shoulder, without holding hands or leaning head on shoulder, and it was comfortable to Rin.

In all reality, Piko had wanted to watch the movie for three reasons. The first was that he wanted to be next to Rin. He also wanted to think. But the third was the trip-up: he didn't want to talk. Thus a movie was the invaluable distraction required to help him achieve this delicate balance.

To him, who spoke in feelings, silence was necessary and welcomed before such an important moment. However, to Rin, who spoke in thoughts, the silence was stifling, and only served to antagonize her further.

She was trying to ignore it. Really. She could have tried to pass it off at an attempt to be romantic, but Rin knew better than that, much to her own annoyance. While each was secretly touched by kind gestures of the other, those gestures were almost always simple and understated, not to mention those gestures generally involved something at least one of them actually enjoyed.

So despite her initial resolution to keep her business to herself, it quickly became obvious to Rin that Piko was nervous about something. It was unmistakable. She knew he was comfortable in silence, but that wasn't the whole story. Every now and then, whether consciously or subconsciously, Piko would become tense, and Rin realized he was thinking, quite actively, in much the same way she was, but whatever he was thinking about kept bothering him.

She was conflicted for a while, not wanting to involve herself in something Piko wanted to sort out on his own, but then again, was that what she was there for? It was a difficult thing to decide, but the more she realized Piko was bothered, the more she was bothered.

And so nearly two-thirds into the movie, Rin paused it and sat quietly for a moment.

"Is something wrong?" Piko asked, looking at Rin.

"That's what I was going to ask," Rin said, smiling at the irony of it despite her concern. She stared at the still screen and made up her mind to press the subject. "If you're worried about something, you could tell me, you know?"

She waited for Piko to admit whatever was troubling him then and there, but instead she felt his gaze drop as he sighed a little. "Nothing's wrong, actually."

Rin blinked. Even without seeing Piko's expression, she believed he was telling the truth. There was nothing hesitant about the statement, and even though it wasn't light and carefree, it certainly seemed genuine.

"Then what are you thinking about?" Rin asked, still not wanting to rest until she figured out the cause of Piko's state.

"You," he said simply, and Rin felt heat in her cheeks. She momentarily wished Piko didn't have the ability to say such things so matter-of-factly. But he continued, so Rin tried to pay attention and ignore her blush.

"People echo these phrases that they believe give them license to go out and do whatever they want with their life because they figure if they've only got one life, they ought to spend it on themselves, and they ought to obey every impulse so as not to miss out on anything if they happen to die."

Rin considered this. "So like, 'no regrets?' Those types of people?"

"Yeah," Piko said, leaning his head back a little. "The thing is, I've always thought I'd much rather die with a promise I've kept than live with a regret I wasted."

"What do you mean?" Rin asked, matching his increasingly serious tone.

Piko took a breath. "When my dad died, I promised my mom I'd take care of her. I probably missed out on a lot of things I could have done, and I couldn't always put what I wanted first. But even if I had died then, I would have been okay with it, even without experiencing what people think are the best things in life, because I was experiencing something better. To live life by the slogan of 'no regrets' would have led me into a lot of wasted feelings, and a lot of wasted time. Funny how that works, actually."

"Is that bothering you? Thinking about your mom?"

Piko shook his head. "Remember? I was thinking about you. I want to make a new promise."

Rin swallowed, looking over at Piko only to find him looking back at her.

"I don't care how old we are, or what people might _think_ we should have done by now or how we should have taken more chances when we were younger. I'm okay with my choices, and the fact that I lived so much of my life alone, just because it gave me a chance to meet you," Piko said. They were turned completely toward each other now, everything else in the room forgotten. He smiled a little. "Rin, if I promise to spend my life on you, will you spend yours on me?"

Rin felt like the breath that escaped her carried every emotion she could possibly experience. A faint dizziness originated in her head as she continued to focus on breathing in and out, every small movement of her chest stirring up the inexpressible feeling in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed and nodded. He was asking her to marry him, and she understood perfectly.

She had seen it in idealized media before; the young man would propose to the pretty girl, who would then press her hands to her lips in shock and then cry "_yes_" and hug the guy as if she'd never get to do it again.

It wasn't like that for Rin. She had understood the question from the start—Piko had asked long before, and so had she—the few times they brought up such a future, Rin had understood that the question existed. Only, it hadn't been a request before. It had been a sincere question, a consideration, a "will we or will we not?" And now Piko was asking again, asking for an answer, and Rin had nodded.

Piko didn't need more than that. His smile was quiet and reserved, like him, but Rin could see so much happiness that it made her heart yearn to retain the image forever. She leaned forward and set her chin on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she felt Piko put his arms around her. It was pathetic, really, she mused silently. To be so vulnerable, and to be such a girl_. _But she trusted Piko, and so she wrapped her own arms around his lower back and took in the moment, not saying a word.

Rin breathed softly as secret tears formed under her closed eyelids. "When I was in the accident," she said quietly, "I was really scared. I thought I was going to lose something. Not my life. I thought I was going to lose my sacrifice. I thought I was going to lose my expression of real love."

"You don't have to make such a big sacrifice, just to prove you love someone."

"I don't have to die," she agreed, sitting back for a moment. "But like you said, to spend my life on you…that's it, isn't it? I would gladly promise such a thing."

Piko stared at her, touched by the same sentiments he expressed so often towards her. "Thank you," he said.

Rin smiled at his odd politeness before leaning forward to hug him tightly once again, feeling any fear of such contact melt away. She was safe. There was nothing stopping her anymore.

Rin was capable of love.

"Hey, Piko," she said after a moment. "I want to believe you were right all along…that people are selfish because they don't know what it's like to be selfless." She waited before she continued slowly. "But I've thought of something else."

"What's that?"

"People are still sad even when they know what it's like to be happy."

Piko tucked his chin against Rin's shoulder. His task complete, he was free to speak his feelings again. "Happiness is a weird thing," he said. "It often looks like it's there when it's not, and looks like it's not when it's there. But yes, in the end, it comes and goes, seemingly as it pleases."

"So the happiness I feel now won't last, and it might not even ever come back?" Rin asked softly.

Piko took in a deep breath as he let go of Rin and sat back to look at her, shrugging his shoulders a little. "I can't give you happiness, and as far as I know, you can't give yourself happiness. But I do know that if you find a way to love others, happiness has a way of finding you."

"So you still believe what you said is true?"

Piko nodded. "But it doesn't matter if I believe it. If it's true, it'll be true with or without my support, and if not, nothing I do can make it true."

"True," Rin remarked, before cracking a smile.

She might have said something else, but Piko looked like he was hesitating, wanting to say something but holding off. Her mind drifted for a moment, but she was brought back to the present when finally, he stood and offered his hand. "I don't know if you like this sort of thing…but would you mind…will you dance with me?" he asked.

Rin took his hand and stood as well. "Like, the kind of dance rich people do at balls?" she asked.

Piko smiled shyly. "Something like that."

Rin considered it, not making eye contact as she thought. "I have some music for that, I think." Heading to the old stereo that sat quietly at the opposite end of the room, Rin looked down the shelf before locating a CD and pressing it gently into the player. She returned to Piko, looking up at him from where she stood, and gave him a nervous smile as the gentle instrumental began to play.

She had changed into a short nightgown after dinner, a cardigan thrown over it and modest shorts under it. He was still dressed in his clean shirt and trousers. Her hair was tousled and she still wore a bandage along the side of her face, while Piko's mismatched eyes twinkled under his pale hair as always.

To each, the other was beautiful.

Rin closed her fingers around Piko's hand as he held her waist, and for the first few seconds, she couldn't bring herself to lift her eyes to his face. Her embarrassment broke down, however, and she finally met his gaze. Neither spoke, neither smiled; it almost seemed as if neither breathed. They simply danced—with each other, for each other.

After a couple of songs, Rin found herself struck with dazed bliss, and she rose up on her tiptoes to kiss Piko before dropping back down and burying her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their steps turned into sways, and Rin's eyes closed, relaxing as Piko put both arms around her waist.

It was strangely hypnotizing, pulling them in until they lost themselves in the moment, hardly awake even though the night was still young. The songs and movement blended together, and before Rin knew it, she was barely conscious of them moving away from the center of the room; whether she was walking or not she couldn't tell. She only knew that her tired body relaxed on the cushions of the couch, and pressed closely against her was Piko, his soft breathing as rhythmic as the music still playing.

She could have fallen asleep right there, but Piko brought her back to consciousness one last time. "Rin," he breathed, hardly louder than a whisper.

"Hm?" she didn't open her eyes, but forced her mind to concentrate on Piko's words as sleep threatened to pull her under.

"If I had twenty four hours left to live, I'd want to spend it like this," he said.

"Yeah." Rin smiled.

_~The End~_

* * *

><p><strong><em>I hope you've enjoyed the story as it stands, and I'd love if you could leave a review if you liked it. If you didn't...uhh thanks for reading anyway?<em>**

**_(Note: there is a bit more writing that takes place within this universe that I'm uploading to the end of this over the next couple of Sundays, but it isn't essential to the main storyline, so if you don't want to read more, feel free not to come back, but if you did want to keep reading, come back next Sunday :) )_**


	12. Epilogue (first part)

Author's note:

Please read! I know I ramble, but this is important rambling!

At this point, the main story has ended, and one epilogue chapter remains. This basically splits off the main plot from the more slice-of-life/realism ending that may or may not offer the same level of closure to you as the previous chapter. This chapter has two separate endings, and thus will be posted in three sections. The first is after this note, the beginning of the epilogue, which is the same for both endings. The second will be the "bad end," and the third will be the "happy end," both of which I'll explain:

I've done something a little different for this story, and no, I'm not deliberately trying to mimic a visual novel style ending, I simply acknowledge the existence of two separate paths in their universe. The _bad end_ is not the real ending. However, it IS a stand-alone ending, so I have some advice to consider before reading it. Here's the deal: I did not warn in advance about this story being a tragedy, for one simple reason: it's not. The real 'end' (the previous chapter) is quite happy. However, the _bad end_ chapter contains a sad ending, so I'll suggest a couple different ways to read from here.

1) Completely skip that chapter, never to look back, and read the _good end_ chapter.

2) Skip the _bad end_ and read the _happy end_ chapter, but come back to read the _bad end _out of curiosity with the knowledge that it's unrelated to the real story and has no impact on what really happens.

3) Treat both as legitimate endings, and read both with the belief that both actually happen in parallel universes. (This is obviously my choice, since I chose to write both out).

4) Decide not to read the _happy end_ and treat the _bad end_ as the only legitimate ending because you like stories ending on a realistic-possibility-type tragedy (if you choose this option I promise it offers just as much closure as the happy ending, but in a different way.)

5) Don't even bother with the epilogue chapters at all because you don't trust me to add on to the story (I wouldn't blame you).

ALL RIGHT, I'm done talking, proceed judiciously.

* * *

><p>EPILOGUE (part 1)<p>

In essence, all that could have happened to unite two people had in fact happened, for Rin and Piko were as complete together as they were apart.

With the ablility to feel and love and think for herself, with memories of years preceeding, with unique struggles and obstacles she alone faced, Rin could be called a complete person. With emotions and considerations and convictions, with an understanding of his life before he met her, with a promise he inherited from the past, Piko could also be called a complete person. There was nothing left to be desired for the development of either. But together, with the total surrender of this fullness of being to each other, they became complete in marriage.

And so it was. Surely, there was much understanding, knowledge, and compassion towards each other; in the same way, each maintained certain emotions and thoughts that could be expressed and observed but never truly experienced by the other. This they both knew and accepted, for it never really strained their happiness, and they understood the limitations of what two humans can realistically share, as sensible people do.

For a brief moment, everything was right. There was no want, no false images destroyed, no disappointment; for Rin and Piko, being as old as they were, had realized early on the value of transparency in such a relationship as theirs. Their story as a couple might even be said to have reached a satisfactory point at which a new story must begin, lest the cliché 'happily ever after' become their monotonous destiny.

Thus that moment ended after mere months of marriage, in the fashion of a renewed desire within Rin's heart: she wished to be a mother.

It was an odd wish for her, really, one she had realized years before in the midst of loneliness, but which found her again in the midst of love. The opportunity had presented itself now to Rin, the opportunity to have a complete family, and with nervous apprehension, she dared to take it.

Piko found himself beginning to accept the idea and quieting Rin's fears about it, but on the inside, he had his own worries. He was unsure of his abilities to be a father such as his own, who had possessed all the best qualities that could be desired in that position; he wondered whether he himself was more suited to be a mother.

It sounded funny, and indeed, Rin laughed when she heard this concern, but it was legitimate. In all honesty, though, neither of them quite pictured themselves as parents, but the idea of having a child so strongly attracted Rin that it began to appeal to Piko as well, and so they finally agreed upon it.

But it was for nought.

When Rin finally visited a doctor, it became apparent that having children was quite out of the question. Whatever the problem was, she didn't hear, remember, or care. She was heartbroken.

Upon reaching home on that day, she could only sink down onto the nearest seat, her eyes locked on something beyond what was seen. She knew she was about to cry, but she couldn't find the energy to do anything about it, so she merely sat there as the tears began welling up in her eyes and sliding down her cheeks.

Piko watched, unaware of the pained expression that had taken over his face, unable to do anything about it. There was no comfort, no wording that could safely bring Rin back to a happy reality. For the time being, she needed to cry, but he could hardly bear it.

"Why couldn't you marry me when I was young and pretty?" she said in a small voice, seemingly at random, her eyes moving to look at Piko through the thin wall of tears. "Then life would have—"

"Would have what?" asked Piko. He tried to keep it together as he answered Rin's doubt. "Rin, listen to yourself. Would you even have given me a second glance when you were 'young and beautiful'?"

Rin blinked the tears out of her eyes and focused on Piko's earnest gaze. "No," she said, because it was the truth. "But if only it could have been different, and more normal, or…or I could at least have been able to have children!" Rin cried. She closed her eyes and let the tears build up behind her eyelids again.

"Rin," Piko said sternly. She opened her eyes and looked at him pitifully. "You aren't the only one in the world with regrets. But now that it's happened, what can you do?"

Rin shook her head sadly at herself. "I know," she admitted. "I just…thought I was done with them…that things would be perfect now. But of course that's impossible, even still."

"Let's put it aside, for now. Is that okay? If we spent some time enjoying what we have, perhaps you'll find yourself a bit happier."

Rin nodded reluctantly, and that had been the end of that—at least for the time being.

The formed a nonverbal agreement to return to a state of confidance, to talk through their emotions as a way of releasing fear and disappointment, to love and be loved. They continued life as normal, but with a small sense of expectancy, as if something more important were just around the corner.

It was a state of complacency, but a temporary one.

And almost exactly at the end of six months, the subconsciously awaited moment came, when a new path was paved in the midst of their absent wanderings.

* * *

><p><em>uh p.s. maybe don't expect the second part of the epilogue to be available until a couple days after next Sunday because I'm drowning in work o_o<em>


	13. Epilogue (bad end)

**THIS IS THE BAD END. **In case you don't actually read the chapter titles. Warning: the following may contain sensitive and/or controversial themes, ideas, and views. Do not read if you have not yet read the previous chapter entirely (including my author's note).

Last call.

Here it is.

* * *

><p>BAD END<p>

Looking back, Piko simply believed he would not—and could not—understand.

Rin had said something recently, as she thought aloud.

"We have to hit a peak in life, at some point. It's logical. Anything linear that involves change reaches a peak. In a simple graph of numbers, the highest point is the highest number, and perhaps it's hit multiple times, but it's still a peak, and the valleys pale in comparison. It's not as clear in life, I think, but it's the same concept. Our values our buried deep in our subconscious, desires that we wish to fulfill, and the moments we're closest to them are the peaks of our lives, and the peaks don't remain forever."

It made sense, like the rest of her, but it stood out in Piko's mind. She continued as her thoughts took shape.

"Once we've hit that peak, we don't generally know it, I think. Because every human is limited to his own experience, he continues to live in hopes that he reaches another high that turns out to be the real peak. Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn't, but that's what keeps a person going."

"But why do we have to live for the single greatest moment?" Piko had asked her then, considering the thought. "What if we live for the collection of moments, something that acts more like a sea than a mountain?"

Rin had given him a look then, one he couldn't describe. It wasn't quite a glare, it wasn't quite sad, it wasn't quite amused, but he knew one thing: it was eerily piercing.

"Why else would all of our stories end after the climax?" She had reflected on her own words, taking them in and approving. "Perhaps you enjoy a book through its words, but you read it for its crowning point. And I think everyone's subconscious desire, a sort of collective goal, is to reach that peak at the very end, so as not to experience anything less after experiencing the best."

It had stopped there. Piko hadn't thought much of the conversation at the time, other than it being one of Rin's darker moments, but now it worried him. Though he couldn't understand, the words she had spoken at that time lent themselves to some sort of explanation.

He hadn't expected it, waking up that morning.

He hadn't expected to wake up alone.

She had been gone, and he didn't know where, and he had panicked. She hadn't warned him about having to leave early—she always did in the past, so that he could wake up earlier too, if he so chose—and she didn't leave a note. He tried her phone; the phone rang from inside her purse, still at home. He waited; an hour passed without her return. He checked her emails and texts out of sheer panic; there was nothing out of the ordinary in any recent messages.

So he had called Miku and she had asked Len who had checked with Hana who shook her head no. And he waited for a message or a comfort or a call—and none came.

None came, until around 10 that morning.

It was nearly the same, a striking moment of déjà vu, when Piko picked up the phone and heard an unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line. It was nearly the same as the time Rin had been in a wreck.

Nearly.

Except, he hadn't felt anything after this call. No panic. No pain. No sadness. No guilt. No fear. Only numbness. Only empty. Only…helpless.

Gone. Rin was gone. Went to the tracks. Waited for the train. Never left a note. Never spoke a word. She was gone.

Piko didn't dare think about her final moments; he couldn't bear it. To die that way…it choked his soul and stole his breath. There was nothing beautiful about it. He believed Rin knew that, he believed she had been terrified, but he was agonized—he would never truly know.

There was a funeral, the past week. A lot of people came. Hundreds. A lot of people heard about it. Thousands. Probably millions. It was funny, how everyone suddenly remembered her, after her death. Piko was asked to speak at a memorial service. _What was she genuinely like?_ they wanted to know. _You were closest to her in her final years._

It didn't matter what Piko said. Rin was not a collection of words. There was nothing to be felt by speaking, nothing to be felt by listening. Rin would not come back.

He had hung around Len and Miku and Hana many times after that. He saw Len cry, and he remembered Rin's words.

"My brother was kind of like that, sometimes. I guess there are times when guys just feel like…yeah."

He saw Miku cry. She had asked him, once, why he was crying after Rin was put in the hospital. She had seemed so strong, so put together, and so wise. Now she was broken, and Piko realized just how much the two women had meant to each other.

He saw Hana cry, and Piko's heart broke for the girl. He had been in her shoes, a bit younger, watching his dad leave the world, and he too had cried at that time.

But it had been three weeks since Rin's death now, and Piko still hadn't cried for Rin.

Perhaps it was because he couldn't believe she was gone. Perhaps it was because she had taken all of his emotions with her to the grave. Perhaps Piko was dying as well. He couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he couldn't cry for her.

It took Piko a long time to collect his thoughts. He stayed home alone, remaining awake for days on end before succumbing to sleep for long periods of time. He thought about Rin's life, and what she had said, what she had done, what she had intended to do, and he wondered what he was supposed to do in return. It was like trying to solve a puzzle while knowing all along the solution didn't exist.

It crossed Piko's mind briefly that maybe Rin had wanted Piko to follow in her steps in order to complete the story, but he quickly pushed the thought away. There was nothing sensible about it. It was unlike Rin.

And if there was anything Piko was sure of, it was that Rin had still been Rin when she died. It seemed far-fetched to consider the possibility that she had committed suicide without being burdened with some form of hidden depression, but at the same time, Piko couldn't bring himself to believe that her decision had been anything but calculated.

In all of the time Piko thought about it, he managed to pull forth every memory he had of Rin, every sliver of thought that included her. Her death put Piko face to face with reality once again, just as had happened each time he lost a parent. This time was different, though. A new type of bond had been severed, and it hurt in a different way. It inflicted more pain than any talk about death could have, it twisted his stomach more than any imagined scenario could have, and it left Piko questioning where to go next.

Was there really anything left to live for, or had Rin taken it all with her?

Piko didn't want to believe that Rin was capable of such a cruel act. Certainly she had known what an impact it would have on him, as well as the rest of her family. Yet a nagging thought ate away at Piko every day, one that told him depression had snuck up on her and scared her, leaving her irrational and uncontrollably misled into taking drastic measures, unable to share her condition with anyone else because she was unable to comprehend it herself.

Thus it was that Piko eventually gave up. He gave up on trying to figure it out, because there was nothing to figure out. Someone had simply died, others had simply lived, and in the same way as every other occurrence of such a combination, things had simply changed.

So Piko never really understood, but he was okay with that fact, eventually, and he made sure he never tried to understand again. His heart ached though, and if there was one attainable desire that Piko desperately wished for, it was the ability to cry for Rin.

It was because of this wish that Piko set pictures of Rin here and there around the house, hoping to push himself over the edge at some point, but it only helped maintain the empty numbness his heart had been reduced to.

He visited restaurants they had eaten at together, walked along streets and paths they had traveled, and even gone inside the school she had taught at, not even caring if he happened to cry in public, but that all failed as well.

Rin had sometimes remarked that Piko was similar to Len, but Piko didn't believe that anymore. Len had been able to feel something, when Rin was gone. Piko couldn't even do that.

He had gone to Len's house, though, with the final hope that Len might prove to be a tipping point. That maybe Len could stir up the emotions Piko so desperately wanted to feel and let go of once and for all.

So Len agreed to try to help talk it out and the two sought privacy in an empty room upstairs, and while Len took a seat, Piko faced the opposite direction, standing and staring absentmindedly out the single window with his hands in his pockets.

"I gave her a hard time," Len said, speaking in a gentle tone but a firm voice, an ability Piko envied. "A lot of the time. It was what we did to each other. We joked around. But you never did that to her, and you should have no reason to feel any guilt, whatsoever, in case that's been bothering you."

He paused before speaking again. "If there's anything you should do, it would be this: remember Rin. Remember Rin for her eyes. For her smile. For her laugh. For her voice. Remember Rin for the way she pushed others along when they couldn't get going themselves. Remember her sensibility, and the way she loved to think. Remember her bizarre love of the color orange and everything that embodied. Remember her flair, her style, her speech. Don't ever let go of the times she smiled at you, truly smiled, or the times she let you see her for who she was and not who she wanted to be. Remember all her performances and fame and then remember that she never let it go to her head, not really. Remember everything she did for you, because she was never careless about those things.

"Remember her honesty, and the genuine person she was whenever she felt she could trust someone. She trusted you. Remember her love of discussion and storytelling and exaggeration. Remember Rin for the time that she spent moving forward, even when it was hard, and don't overlook the significance of her commitment to you personally. I want you to remember all these things you already knew about Rin, and then I want you to remember this:

"Rin was afraid of death. Rin was afraid of weakness. But what she was most afraid of, above either of those things, was living in a world without you, without me, without Hana, without Miku."

The only sound was that of Piko drawing in quiet breaths as the first tear fell.

"I don't think she understood how much pain she would cause us, nor what she was really doing, and I don't know that I'll ever understand everything that drove her to that point," Len spoke again. "But don't let yourself forget her—"

Len's voice finally broke, and he had to add his own promise. "—I can't, I won't—"

When he spoke again, he had calmed his voice. "Don't let your body and mind try to numb the pain by pushing her away. Everything she gave to you, especially the day before she left, she gave to you knowing exactly what she was going to do."

Piko gritted his teeth as tears squeezed through his closed eyelids and trickled in rapid succession towards the ground. He opened his mouth to speak, but could only manage breathing at first. His voice never came, but his mind could not be silenced.

_What would you do with twenty-four hours left to live?_

It wasn't meant for anybody in the room to answer anyway.

Piko returned home that day in a mixture of feelings. It was like putting alcohol on an open wound—excruciating but for the knowledge that it would heal soon. He knew Rin's brother would be fine. He still had others to live for. This was all Piko's decision to make. He had to offer mental apologies to Rin and believe in something more than a bland life beyond its peak. Their life wasn't a story, not in the sense that Rin imagined, and it didn't have some great climax. It simply went on.

Piko honestly didn't know if there was anybody left on earth that truly cared about him and loved him. He really didn't care. All that mattered to him was that there had been someone, and as long as he continued to live, she still existed as part of him. So he had to continue to live.

When Piko dared to go out to the small river crossing one day, and he leaned on the railing to look out into the water, he imagined that one of the droplets was Rin's life, passing underneath him, carried by thousands of others he didn't have names for. His still hadn't arrived yet, and he'd really never see it pass, but no one had to put a name to his. It didn't have the same value to anyone else. Such pleasure was Piko's, and Piko's alone now.

Piko continued his job, with about as much a sense of purpose as ever. Maybe the world could survive without him, but it was becoming clear that the world could survive without many people. So he kept at his job for the sake of that consistency, and a small inexplicable comfort arose from it.

Even if the world could never produce a magic to heal the deepest wounds and solve the greatest problems, at least it had music. Piko didn't listen to any of Rin's music after she was gone. It wasn't really what she would have wanted, to be reduced to a catchy beat in his head. Instead, he played guitar. More often, now, did he choose to pick up the instrument and sit for an hour at a time, relishing the plain experience simply because it loosed some of the binds on his soul.

And of course Piko never forgot his ties to his family-in-law, even though he had only been tied to them legally for a short time. They invited him to dinner occasionally, and he even attended Hana's graduation, when that time came, and he never passed up the opportunity to speak to an old friend or colleague of Rin's, when those occasions arose.

In the end, the only time Piko really suffered anymore was as he lay in bed alone, on the verge of sleep, his mind free to summon images of his wife. He was reminded of his own fate, then, to die alone. It didn't bother him in the sense of regret: he had gotten a chance to share himself, and that could never be taken away. Rather, he simply wished Rin didn't have to suffer the way she did, because he was sure she had dwelled on the same thoughts he was having, but was cut much more deeply by them.

It was in this way that not a single day went by when Piko neglected to remember Rin. He never stopped missing her. But he also began to realize that life didn't begin and end with Rin. No, while she was priceless to him, the only life that really began and ended with Rin was her own—as for Piko, he still had a life to live.

Because as long as you still live, he told himself, life goes on.

* * *

><p>-Author's note-<p>

-maybe take a moment to take in that ending and THEN read the author's note, idk-

Just so we're clear: _**this is not intended to romanticize suicide, death, depression, or anything** **similar.** _Writers write to understand, and my intention was to focus on Piko and how he deals with something so traumatic and unexpected. If you have a problem with it, I'm sorry, I did warn you, and I won't take it down. If you've read this far, my hope is that you're mature enough to see where I'm coming from. If not, again, I'm sorry.

A little self-promotion here, but if you enjoyed this story and/or The Way It Always Was, I made a tumblr about halfway through writing this story and I post little drabbles (both within this universe and outside of it) and occasional fanart for RinxPiko and LenxMiku. You can find it at **the-way-it-always-was** (with the dot tumblr dot com at the end of course). I'm not sure exactly what ff's rules are about foreign links but I tried to make it foolproof haha. If you are interested and can't find it just PM me or something.

But yeah, the happy end will be out in a couple of days hopefully, and I hope you enjoyed this story! Review maybe? I always love hearing what you have to say :)


	14. Epilogue (happy end)

_"There is no real ending. Just a place where you stop the story."_

_-Author Frank Herbert_

* * *

><p>HAPPY END<p>

"Hey, Piko."

It was nothing more than the beginning of a conversation in the midst of a pretty day. Piko turned from his examination of a dying tree in their yard to look at Rin, who sat forward on a swinging bench, dangling her legs back and forth in an uncoordinated motion that only made the seat jolt from side to side. She looked like a child, which drew a small laugh from Piko.

She frowned and stopped the movement of her legs before resuming her playful countenance and carrying on what she had to say. "What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"Nothing," Piko said, before turning back to his task.

Rin frowned, though without the satisfaction of Piko's acknowledgement. "Nothing? At all? You had no dreams for yourself when you were younger?"

"I didn't figure there was anything for me to be. Nothing worth really looking forward to, anyway."

Rin's shoulders sagged at the unexpected comment. "That's kind of unlike you," she said. "You're so optimistic all the time; I thought you'd have had some great aspiration." Rin sighed. "I didn't really get to say 'when I grow up I want to be…' because I was a child idol. I figured that was pretty good already. So I just wondered if you had something, if you ever achieved it."

Piko stopped what he was doing and stared at the ground. The day was too nice, Rin too lighthearted, for him to dwell on the past, but it crept up on him anyway. Having noticed Rin's apparent disappointment in his plain answer, he decided to tell her with the hope that she might recognize the reason for his hesitancy.

"I wanted to be like my dad," he said. "And that was it."

Rin understood quickly. With an unperceived apologetic look, she dropped the subject. Neither of them had so much as mentioned anything related to parenting since the painful diagnosis, and something so close to the subject made Piko nervous and Rin sorrowful.

And yet Rin continued conversation, not wanting to lose her carefree feelings.

"Something else I was wondering…so maybe you could give me a different opinion…I used to think that you have to hit a peak in life, the greatest moment ever, and then that's it. Either the peak happens at the end of your life, and you can die peacefully, or you're left to live with less than the best for the rest of your life, which is how I felt a lot, after I stopped singing," she said. "And then you, and then marriage, and then there was supposed to be…"

Piko sat down next to Rin.

"Do you think we've hit our peak in life, and there's nothing better left for us?"

"I don't want to, but, yeah?"

Piko looked thoughtful. "What if we live for a collection of moments, something that acts more like a sea than a mountain? So even if you only get one 'best moment ever,' it's not the only thing that makes life worthwhile?"

"Do you believe that?"

Piko considered his next action for a moment before hugging Rin. "Is this a peak?" he asked.

"I—"

Seeing that Rin was at a loss for words and sufficiently thrown off guard, Piko released her and smiled sheepishly. "Probably not," he answered his own question with a small shrug. "But it's something I live for."

Rin pushed him away in jest and crossed her arms. "You just wanted an excuse to hug me."

Piko wore a look of confusion. "Excuse? I don't need an excuse to do that." As if to illustrate his point, he wrapped his arms around Rin even more tightly. She yelped indignantly.

"Piko!" she cried. "You're supposed to be shy!" Piko still didn't let go.

"I think some things are so important they trump shyness," Piko said, quite seriously. "Like making sure you know I can hug you whenever I feel like it."

"Sometimes I just want to push you out of the room," she said, her face warm by the time Piko finally let go.

"That would be difficult out here."

Rin squinted and glanced at Piko out of the corner of her eye. He was grinning. She could only shake her head, knowing that if she continued to look at him she would start laughing as well.

Rin allowed silence to smooth over the pretended discord as Piko began rocking the swing in an even rhythm. She closed her eyes for a moment, but opened them quickly, alerted by a small sigh from Piko. She looked over at him, and indeed, he seemed to be preparing to say something, perhaps serious.

"There's really no right time to talk about something like this," he said, glancing at Rin. "But if I—and maybe you—keep waiting to say something, we'll run out of time." He began rubbing his wrist nervously. "It's been a while, since…you know…and I wanted to ask: have you thought about...adoption?"

The fact that Piko had managed to figure out Rin's real worry in the midst of her scattered thoughts was not lost on Rin. She let her gaze flicker over Piko before she stared past her feet. "A lot," she said, not afraid to admit it if Piko wasn't afraid to bring it up.

It was then that their reservations on the subject began to crumble, as their previously set aside and quietly contemplated desires flooded forth anew at the mention of such an option.

"I don't know about you," Piko said. "Well, I mean, I have a guess. But we don't have forever. So it had to be brought up—now, or else never."

The unsurity of both showed clearly as they tiptoed through the subject at that time, and afterwards a week passed before either could give a solid answer; even then there were strong doubts, but the matter was well near decided.

For though it could have been considered sudden, their decision to follow through was really the result of months of secret consideration. Awareness had been present the entire time—it had simply gone unspoken and unshared, leaving both to deal with it at a different pace, but eventually leading to the same conclusion.

Thus, in the strange bond they had formed, a similarity in thought and will was finally realized, and the nervous joy that found them in those beginning steps dutifully accompanied them throughout the rest of their commitment to the process. It became a part of life, then, to understand that they _would_ be parents, and they _would_ have a child.

And it scared them.

The greatest fear they could both admit was that of being too old. For Rin, who had spent most of her adult life feeling behind, the choice brought doubt to her mind. For Piko, whose parents had died earlier than he would have wished, his and Rin's age were troubling in a similar sense. But there was nothing Rin wanted more than someone else to give her love to, and there was nothing Piko could have desired more strongly than to be someone of similar influence as his own father.

And yet no matter how long the process took, no matter how old they were, no matter what obstacles they faced, Rin and Piko were set on their decision.

Before they even got to see the child, the couple would lie awake in bed, trying to imagine what they might have gotten themselves into. Their hands would indubitably find each other, and neither would know who had reached for the other first, but it would give them a bit more peace, leaning on the commitment of each other.

They would pore over paperwork together, working through it tirelessly by the strength that an occasional glance in each other's direction would provide. They would laugh about their circumstances on some nights and cry about it on others, but they never gave up on happiness; they never relinquished their spirit.

And at the end of eight months, Rin and Piko could finally bring their child home.

A little boy of no resemblance to either nonetheless gripped the hands of both as they led him into their house for the first time. Rin bit her tongue as the young child's hand held tightly onto her own, and she swallowed the emotions that rose within her and threatened to overwhelm her.

It was a quiet occasion, one gone unnoticed by any but themselves, yet one that would be burned into their memories forever.

"Is this okay?" Rin had asked quietly as they stood in the entryway.

She had asked the child, but she felt it resonate in her own heart as well.

She looked down at the boy to see him nodding, still too absorbed in his surroundings to look at Rin. Her eyes rose to meet the gaze of Piko, and they shared the emotions of the world in their stare.

A week later brought a visit from Len and his family, who had been supportive from the start. Hana was the first to enter the house; bright, sweet Hana, who was physically stronger than her mother and bore a darker complexion, but held in every other aspect a nearly identical resemblance.

Being introduced to her cousin for the first time, she bent down and grinned at him. "Are you my little cousin?" she asked.

The boy stared at her before looking around for an answer. His questioning gaze rested on Piko, who nodded warmly. The boy turned back to Hana and gave her a nod. Her smile returned fully. "And how old are you?"

"Four," came his answer, accompanied by four fingers held up. Hana nodded seriously before straightening.

"I'm fifteen," she said, holding up both hands and a foot. The boy stared at her curiously. She smiled secretively and squatted down close to him again. "And we're partners in crime now, okay?"

Miku and Len followed in their introductions, though neither could possibly be as fascinated with the child as their daughter, who relished the idea of being like an older sibling.

Len wandered over to Piko afterwards with his hands in his pockets, and greeted him with a small nod and something of an understated smile. Both of their gazes moved silently to the women, who had hugged and then parted briefly during the introductions, but had now plunged into excited conversation.

"You doing all right?" Len asked.

"Yeah," Piko said.

Len laughed quietly to himself. "Is it everything you had hoped?"

"I wouldn't trade what I have now for anything in the world," was Piko's reply.

Len gave another small nod and subdued smile, watching the young boy approach Piko and ask to show Hana his room. When Piko consented and the children ran out of the room, the two couples converged and shared knowing smiles before reflecting on the situation.

"Rin said you are an excellent father, Piko," Miku said warmly.

Piko declined the compliment. "I don't think we can know that yet," he said.

"Oh, but I agree!" she insisted. "Just the way your son looks at you is enough to tell."

Piko was noticeably flattered by the assertion, but he didn't say anything. Instead, Len took over.

"I'm glad to see you two doing well," he said. He was about to say something else, but Rin made a face and shook her head abruptly.

"Don't even try to get all mushy-mushy and adult-y on me, Len." She watched him with a twinkle in her eye. "We're all kids here."

Len had no reply to this, but only raised his eyebrows with a suppressed smile and did his best to accommodate Rin. Not more than a couple of minutes passed before Hana rushed back into the room with her cousin trailing slowly behind her.

"Aunt Rin, did you know your son is really good at drawing?"

Rin glanced at Piko, ashamed to admit she didn't, but unsure if Piko really knew it either. Seeing Piko's curious gaze, Rin turned back to Hana and shook her head. "No, why?"

Hana held up a piece of paper for Rin to take. "He had this in his room," she said.

Rin took the paper and stared at it, subconsciously aware of the others crowding around to look at it.

The lines on the paper were dark and unrefined, but there was no question as to what they depicted.

It was a woman and a man, holding hands, a small heart between them. The woman had dark blonde hair, with a simply drawn outfit of bright colors. The man had faint grey hair and two differently colored eyes: one blue, one green. Both figures wore a smile, drawn to match the personality of each.

"Aw, that's so sweet," Miku exclaimed. "You _are_ a good artist," she praised the young boy.

Rin was still quiet when everyone else had already glanced at the picture. She felt Piko's hand touch her back and she focused enough to look up and hand the drawing back to Hana, who handed it to its creator.

"It's very nice," Piko said. "You should keep it." The little boy nodded emphatically, then turned to Rin.

"Do you like it?" he asked her.

Rin opened her mouth slightly, then nodded. "Yes," she said. "Very much."

He walked up and handed it to her. "You can keep it."

Rin took the drawing slowly, as if it might break otherwise. When she looked at the drawing again, she felt Miku's gaze and met her eyes quickly. It was that sweet smile of hers; Rin felt that Miku understood everything, and was glad for it. She took a deep breath and mentally told herself to move on, setting the picture on a nearby table with some of her smaller possessions and re-entering light conversation.

The picture sat there through the evening, quiet as the conversation grew lively, motionless as dinner was served, inconspicuous as goodbyes were said.

When the child had been put to bed, Rin collected the drawing and took it to her and Piko's bedroom, setting it upright on her nightstand. Piko came in shortly afterwards, his quiet look seeming to bring calm to the entire room. He had nothing to say, but then Rin didn't really either.

Eventually, a thought occurred to Rin, a thought she wished to share with Piko. "I've always wondered whether things are really changed by right and wrong decisions, or if life just goes on regardless."

"Maybe both," suggested Piko. "Why?"

Rin was silent for a moment. "I think I made a lot of wrong decisions when I was younger, and yet now everything seems right, and I feel like I don't deserve it, like I shouldn't have ended up so happy."

"I don't think you should feel like that," Piko said. "Maybe nobody deserves anything good, based on their own decisions. But life does go on regardless, and that's why people ought to be good to each other, to give them what they couldn't get on their own."

"What you gave to me," Rin said, making the connection.

"And you to me."

Rin looked at the picture. "And he to us."

Piko smiled. "Yeah."

At the bottom of the picture, written carefully underneath each figure, were the respective labels:

"My mother"

"My father"

It was one of the most beautiful things Rin had ever seen.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's it.<strong>

-cries tears of 500 emotions-

It's done. Over. More than three months of work, finished.

Big thank-you to B.A.G.-GOMEZ and snailing-along for reviewing like every chapter (very much appreciated) and to the others who dropped by to leave a review or two: chocolatemonster847, Shadow Kea, and Akane L.M.S.

So listen, same shameless self-promotion I did at the end of the previous upload: if you enjoyed this story and/or The Way It Always Was, I made a tumblr about halfway through writing this story and I post little drabbles (both within this universe and outside of it) and occasional fanart for RinxPiko and LenxMiku. You can find it at **the-way-it-always-was** (with the dot tumblr dot com at the end of course). I'm not sure exactly what ff's rules are about foreign links but I tried to make it foolproof haha. If you are interested and can't find it just PM me or something.

If you want to keep up with whatever I'm doing in respect to my shippy stories, I'd suggest following it. If you don't want to do that, at least leave a little review? :) I'd greatly appreciate it, and thanks again to all of you guys who stuck with it. I hope you're glad you did!


End file.
